


Rainbow Love

by ChapterBiChapter (ConnorsWritingSux)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Assault, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Background Deceit Sanders, Betrayal, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Crying, Death, Deceit Sanders Has a Different Name, Developing Friendships, Friends to Lovers, Genderfluid Character, Good Deceit Sanders, Grief/Mourning, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Insecure Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Intrusive Thoughts, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Near Death Experiences, Night Terrors, Nonbinary Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partner Betrayal, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Polyamory, Poor Thomas, Romantic Soulmates, Sorry Not Sorry, Soulmates, Swearing, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Vampires, Wakes & Funerals, Warning: Deceit Sanders, physical assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorsWritingSux/pseuds/ChapterBiChapter
Summary: Four years ago, Angel (Virgil) and their soulmates had an argument that caused a rift in their relationship. In an effort to grow and live their life away from the now-loveless relationship, they moved to Florida. Four years later, they're living the best life they can, working in a cute little bookstore with their friends, Elliott and Thomas, and boss/father figure, Emile Picani. However, Fate loves to play with Virgil and brings his soulmates back to him in a roundabout way.And with them comes trouble.





	1. Prologue

It started with the deepest of the cool colors. The royal blue of Logan’s favorite vest, the deep, rich color of the night sky, and the love and understanding that Logan had once held for him, it all faded within a month. Even if the fading of the colors hadn’t been obvious, Virgil would’ve known something was off with the intelligent man. In the prime of their loving relationship, Logan wasted no time in asking his anxious darling to accompany him on treks to the nearest empty space to stargaze. Their interactions in the home they all shared were often brief but loving, the comforting squeeze of a shoulder, a light hip bump, and approving looks. These were how Virgil knew Logan cared for him, but after that... ** _problem_** , the other man had withdrawn into himself, shutting himself off from Virgil, whether he realized it or not. And it hurt. It hurt to know he’d caused one of his soulmates to fall out of love with him so easily.

At the same time, his other two soulmates were still trying to get Virgil and Logan to talk on a civil level, but each time they tried, he pushed them away until they too, just like their colors, left him alone in the monochromatic world like before. So, to avoid annoying them any further, he wrote letters to each of them, grabbed sentimental items that they’d given him on their first-year anniversary- _only anniversary_ , his mind supplied- some food, and left one night in the winter.

As Virgil sat on a bus heading from Illinois to Florida, he thought about his boys. Patton had been the first to love him and the last to leave him, offering affection any way he could right up until the night Virgil left. He thought about his curly blond hair, the way his bright green eyes, round freckled cheeks, and button nose could distract any man from the danger that lurked beneath the surface. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall what exactly the danger was, but after a few minutes, gave up and continued reminiscing.

Falling for Roman had been nothing like a trip-and-fall kind of situation. In fact, the two were wary of each other for the first six months of their friendship before Patton and Logan forced them to talk about their differences like adults. With their newfound understanding of one another came romantic love. Loving Roman was a warm day in December, mischievous smiles shared during romantic nights together, and a deep, burning pain that would never leave him. Roman’s love was a flame and his temper, a spark. Virgil had been the one to douse the love they shared, but he regretted it with each kiss the other three shared in the mornings after he’d hurt and pushed them away.

He shifted in the uncomfortable foam seat of the Greyhound bus, staring out the window at the streetlights that illuminated the otherwise pitch black scene. A buzz from his hoodie pocket shifted his attention from the grubby glass to his phone instead. “Shit,” he muttered, seeing the notification of 10+ missed messages from Patton who was calling him. His thumb hovered between the Answer and Decline buttons and he felt the burn of tears in the back of his eyes before he pressed Answer. Immediately there were familiar voices coming from his phone and he strained to hear what they were saying over the noisy bus.

When he could hear nothing distinguishable, he swallowed his apprehension and spoke. “Hi…” A sigh of relief could be heard from the background and Virgil couldn't stop his lips from twitching upwards into a soft smile.

“Virge, angel, where are you?” It was Patton. Of course it would be Patton. Virgil felt the tears make their way down his cheeks. Roman and Logan probably hated his existence. Why wouldn’t they? They didn’t love him anymore. “C’mon Virgil, just tell us where you are and we can talk about this.” He felt a bit grateful when Patton’s voice broke him from his negative thoughts but wasn’t grateful enough to return to them just yet.

After a few moments of silence from his end and questions on theirs, he spoke.

“No.” It was freeing to say that, no matter how badly he wanted to say yes, to give in, tell them where he was, and go home to the men that had once loved him. The men that had treated him like a porcelain doll. He moved without thinking, his thumb pressing the End Call button, and powered his phone off before settling in for what he expected to be fitful rest. Sparing one last thought to the men who’d once loved him, he barely registered the way that all the greens-however faint they had become-finally faded from his world, leaving him alone in his little monochromatic world once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lit set-up if you will.


	2. A New Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter introduces everybody's favorite. Oh, and Thomas.

 

Angel sighed as the elderly customer left the bookstore, shoulders slumping. They were a regular who often came in ranting about the government and how ridiculous it was. The two of them would get into little discussions whilst the customer shopped, but only if there were no other people that needed Angel’s attention. The conversations were always interesting enough that by the time the senior citizen came up to say goodbye, they were sad to see them go. In all honesty, the elderly person seemed lonely and in that loneliness, sought out somebody that _had_ to hear them speak in hopes of being _listened_ to. It was sad just how much the tired 25-year-old could relate to that.

As the purple-haired (they hoped it was still purple) person went to turn the Open sign to Closed, somebody new came in. Great, another hour of being open if this person couldn’t decide if they wanted Twilight or the Vampire Chronicles series. They watched with slight annoyance in their eyes as the person stood up straight and looked around, and they gave a half-hearted wave in the customer’s direction. “Yo. Welcome to Stitched Books. I’m Angel,” they pointed at a little chalkboard that hung on the wall next to the register where their name and pronouns of the day were written in what their geriatric friend had told them was purple chalk.

“Oh!” The customer perked up, looking pleasantly surprised to see the board before replying with a smile. “I’m Thomas! He/him pronouns for me!”

Okay, cool. They watched _him_ as he stood in the doorway for another few seconds, fiddling with the strap of a bag slung across his body. Raising an eyebrow, they cleared their throat, uncomfortable with the anxious silence and anxiety in general, that wafted off Thomas like a cheap perfume.

“Do you need something, dude?” Spooked, the man yelped a little before nodding and coming to the register where Angel waited.

“I saw you had a job opening and I was hoping to fill the position?” They were surprised, to say the least. That advertisement had been put out over two months prior, and the shop had gotten no serious inquiries about it.

Their surprise must have translated to something negative in Thomas’s eyes because he scrambled to say more. “Unless you’ve already found someone? I’m sorry if this is just me bothering you. I’d hate to waste someone’s time with this, I just really need a job and-” He cut himself off, looking down at the wooden counter of the register and they felt a bit of pity for the man, having been in a similar situation when they’d first moved to Tampa.

“I can’t guarantee you anything because I don’t own this place, but I’m sure Picani won’t mind if I give you a trial run until he gets back on..” They paused, turning to the calendar hanging up behind them. It was a Thursday, meaning Picani would be back in the store by tomorrow afternoon. Shit. That was definitely  _not_ long enough to give Thomas a trial run. Then again, the guy was pretty desperate, and Angel did need help for the upcoming holiday season. With this in mind, they ran a hand through their hair, internally noting that they needed a trim, before focusing back on the fidgeting man.

“Okay, so, Picani’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. If you come back in the morning I can give you a really short trial run before he gets here?”

Thomas’s face lit up like a star and they snorted at how happy he seemed. _He’s not going to be that cheerful when Picani gets to him_ , they thought.

 

* * *

 

The next day, they were proven wrong. Thomas and Picani got along well. _Too_ well in Angel’s humble opinion, but they were glad to have a co-worker with them in the store. Sure the man was like a huge child, but he was nowhere near as annoying as the Mitchell guy that Picani’s kid, Elliot, had brought in one day. They shuddered a bit when they thought about that sleazeball, glad Elliot had ditched that bastard when they did.

So yeah, Thomas was a bit much at first, but as the weeks went by and time moved into the busier Christmas season, they began appreciating him so much more. For one, he was good with kids. That was something Angel admired him for, as they had a tendency to make children cry. Second, Thomas was kind. Kind and generous to everyone that walked in the doors, offering little candies that he had _personally_ bought for the shop, to anyone that may have wanted one, bought Angel various warm drinks on super cold days and often offered to drive them to their apartment. That was something they especially appreciated and took him up on more as the nights got cooler, considering that they had no car and lived five miles from the shop.

Eventually, Thomas driving Angel home and picking them up became a routine for them both. Thomas having to reassure them constantly that it was no trouble as they lived two minutes apart by car, and Angel reassuring Thomas that, at this point, they were most definitely friends.

After that admission, Thomas had gone above and beyond what Angel’s ex-friends would do for them, bringing by movies and snacks some nights after work (with their express permission of course), letting them rant about weird shit in the middle of the night (“Thomas, nobody really _knows_ what’s at the bottom of the ocean! There may not even be a bottom to it!”), and just generally being there for them. Thomas had even gone out of his way to make them a set of pronoun bracelets out of beads, for their benefit and the benefit of himself and Picani. Of course, they did the same for him. Trying their best to be kinder and less overly negative in Thomas’s presence as this was a relationship they wanted to keep healthy. But in order for the relationship to be beneficial t both of them, there were a few things that the two never did or talked about.

One, no asking about one another’s soulmates unless the information was offered up. A ground rule that had been laid out on their first movie night, and one that Angel was more than happy to abide by. Two, no touching without permission or in emergencies. Just a simple rule about consent that had only been broken once when they’d been in the throes of a night terror whilst Thomas was sleeping over, that prompted them to add the second part to it. And three, communicate. After the rules were instated, their friendship had become a bit strained due to both of them trying to learn one another, but quickly grew stronger once they knew what to and what _not_ to do.

  
It was a nice system. It worked well and, in turn, so did they. But, like Murphy’s Law dictates, anything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is a little ominous. Oh well.


	3. Fang-tal Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go to hell in a handbasket, and Angel learns something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter: blood, near death experience, kind of graphic detail of being bitten by a vampire, and betrayal.
> 
> Next chapter should be out within the week if I don't have too many things to do for college. Enjoy.

Things began falling apart on the day before Angel’s birthday. A few weeks prior, Picani had hired Elliot to watch the store when Angel or Thomas couldn’t, and things were fine for a while. Then, Angel woke up to the sound of Steven Universe’s opening theme, Thomas’s ringtone. One phone call later, they were clean and dressed and sitting in the passenger seat of Thomas’s car, both grumpy about having to wake up earlier than they’d intended.

Then, they’d arrived at the shop and were greeted by a clearly distraught Picani. The worried father hugged them both in thanks, promising to pay time-and-a-half for coming to his aid on short notice; Thomas and Angel declined - even though the money would be useful – and sent him off with promises of keeping the bookstore from burning down. The day went by slowly up until their lunch break with Thomas; the two of them closed the shop for an hour and a half, taking the time to go grab food from the Starbucks across the street. It was nice. The food was terrible, but Thomas’s company and his grumpy rambling about how Picani had woken him up were enough to make a nice outing from an otherwise shit lunch.

After they’d gotten back, they had been swamped with the daily Christmas rush. Anyone working in retail dreaded that specific time of year, and for very good reason. Angel was nearly brought to tears by an angry woman that demanded to know where their vegan cookbooks were, looking for a specific book Angel’d never even heard of when Thomas took over for them. He managed to find the section and check her out before taking a moment to check on his friend, checking them over before sending them to the back for a break. They practically ran to the small room that served as a breakroom and office, throwing themselves into a chair, contemplating everything for a bit.

The week had been decent up to that point, no big issues to be seen anywhere. Tears blurred their vision and they fought the urge to sob. Just a little bit longer. Just until the rush was over. Then they’d go back out there. But would that be fair to Thomas? Just leaving him out there to deal with all those customers? Dabbing at their eyes with the sleeve of their sweater, Angel tried to pep themselves up.

“As soon as they’re gone, you and Thomas can close up and go to your place and eat so much candy and popcorn that you go into a sugar-induced coma. You’ve dealt with this rush before, Angel. You’ve done it alone so many times too. Just a few more hours and then you’re home free.” Angel whispered each word reverently, repeating the pep talk multiple times before they felt ready to go face the next few hours.

There were no more hiccups, and by the time Angel and Thomas had finished closing, they were both far too exhausted to do much more than sit in the backroom. Unfortunately, the trash still needed to be taken out and, Angel being the lucky one they were, drew the short straw. Grumbling and waving off their friend’s offer to take the heavy trash bag to the dumpster outside, they walked out into the snow, dragging said bag behind them as they walked to the alley where the dumpsters sat.

 

* * *

 

The sound of sniffling alerted them to the presence of another person in the alley and Angel stopped dead in their tracks, fear flooding the 25-year-old’s mind. The odds of the stranger not being a murderer were slim-to-none and they did not feel like dying 4 hours before their birthday. Looking down at the trash bag clutched in their fist, they debated the merits of dropping the damn thing there and heading back inside to join Thomas. Then again, he’d probably ask why it had taken so long and they were pretty shit at lying, and then he’d be disappointed when they told him the truth. Yeah, okay, the trash was going into the dumpster. So, they took a step forward, wincing as their foot contacted a glass bottle that gave them away.

“Hello?” the mystery person questioned. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you help me out please?”

Angel gulped as they heard the voice growing louder with each hesitant step, cursing the lack of streetlights there. Fumbling around for a few seconds, they made a noise of triumph as they pulled out their cell and turned on the flashlight, illuminating the alley. With the light on, the mystery person was easier to see. And… Shit. Mystery person sat huddled just a few feet from the dumpster, head covered with a hoodie and resting in their arms; it seemed that Angel hadn’t been noticed yet and they fought the overwhelming urge to throw the bag on the ground and leave the person to their misery. Then, they thought about Thomas and how he’d handle the situation; there’d be anxiety fueling his thoughts and many of his actions, but he’d likely help whoever it was with a smile. Unlike Angel who was prepared to either drop the bag and run or hit the person with the bag and _then_ run. Thomas was a far better person than them anyway—a fact established earlier in their friendship—so thinking some new age WWJD type of shit probably wasn’t all that productive in the end, and only gave the mystery person time to notice them.

Gathering all the nerve they had, Angel sped-walked to the dumpster with their head down, tossing the bag into the nearly-filled container with a grunt of exertion and more than a little sweat on their brow. That’s when they heard the person speaking again, the tell-tale burning of eyes making them tense up.

“Please, I just need to use your phone. Mine died and my boyfriends are probably really worried about me. I could pay you if you wanted, just, please?” The voice was familiar to their mind, but it could have been any of the customers that went through the shop during the day—there was no way in hell that one of _them_ was in Florida and they tossed that idea out. Besides the possibility of the stranger being a customer, the tone of voice was pleading, and Angel detected something else beneath the desperation. Desperation, but of a completely different kind than what they were accustomed to, and it frightened them.

Still, could they really leave this person like this?

With a defeated sigh and a growing sense of dread, Angel turned around and stuck out their Android phone, keeping their eyes focused on the ground. There was a pleased “Thank you!” thrown their way, and as soon as the phone left their freezing hand, they shoved them both into the pockets of their hoodie, praying this person would get done with their call quickly. They waited for a few minutes, halfway listening to the person and halfway focused on how to explain everything to Thomas when they got back inside; barely even registering that the hooded figure had long since stopped talking and had focused entirely on them.

Luck hadn’t been on their side the entire night, so when gloved hands gripped their shoulders and slammed them into the alley wall, Angel shouldn’t have been surprised. They were though, and before they could even yelp in pain, a hand was covering their mouth.

**_Fuck._ **

“You shouldn’t have been so trusting, kiddo!” A chipper tone from a voice so familiar they wanted to cry. _Jesus H. Christ_. Cool, cloyingly-scented puffs of air on their neck and Angel froze. “It’s too bad, too. You remind me of him so much…”

They were pretty sure they weren’t meant to hear that and blinked away the tears forming, chest heaving as the fear finally took complete control of their body. They swung wildly, not even caring if they managed to land a blow to their attacker, just wanting to distract them enough that they could run. A sigh and more pain when the bastard slammed Angel’s head against the alley wall. That’s when it truly registered in their mind that they weren’t going to survive this. There was no cure for death; no cure for death and nobody that was around to save them—there was Thomas but there was no way in hell they’d let this asshole kill their best friend. The tears fell freely then. There was no point in hiding them if they were going to die anyway.

A hand smacked their cheek and they opened their mouth to speak, to say something, but all that came out was a weak whine. They couldn’t say a single word; the terror having silenced them. The breath was back again, this time on their face and they still couldn’t bring themself to look at their soon-to-be-murderer. A finger tracing the curve of their jaw, then soft, cold lips on their neck.

No.

**No.**

_Nonononononononono…_

They were trembling then, wishing they were strong enough to fight past the fear holding them still, angry with themselves and fearful of what would happen. Expecting the worst, they shut their eyes tight, praying to any deity that would listen that whatever happened would be over quickly.

Another kiss then excruciating pain as fangs pierced the flesh of Angel’s neck, tearing through the skin and blood vessels without mercy. They cried out and tried fighting back again, succeeding in landing a hit and startling the vampire enough that it moved away into the shadows with a pissed off growl. Whimpering in pain as they held a hand to the open wound, Angel opened their eyes to color.

_What the fuck_ went through their mind at lightning speed, getting more and more frantic when the creature took a shaky step towards the bleeding human. As it took steps into the light, time seemed to slow down. A button-nose and chubby, freckled cheeks—freckles barely visible beneath the blood. _My blood_ , they thought absentmindedly, feeling the sensation of blood flowing through their fingers. Curly blond hair framed a familiar face as those unnaturally bright green eyes looked at Angel in pure horror.

_Oh_.

Patton’s mouth was moving but they could hear nothing except the blood rushing through their veins, the viscous red liquid hitting the hard concrete beneath their feet. No words but still desperation in those eyes. Desperation and fear. Another step towards them was matched with stumble backward as Angel leaned against the brick wall for support. A blur and then there were hands holding them up and the touch burned in the worst way. Loving and kind, so unlike the monster that had been prepared to kill them not even 15 minutes before.

The touch vanished and they slumped against the wall, sliding to the ground with a pained whimper, not understanding why Patton would even try and be kind only to leave them to bleed out on the alley ground. Then they heard the scream and saw the face of their best friend right there as he sobbed an address into his cellphone before hanging up and gathering them into his arms. The embrace didn’t last long and then Thomas was putting pressure on the wound and _it hurt._ A cry of pain mixed with sirens from a few streets over and Angel could feel themself slipping away, chin coming to rest against their chest as Thomas screamed words that sounded so far away in their fuzzy mind. Strong, gentle hands picking them up and the feeling of a familiar hand in theirs, one they squeezed lightly in an attempt at reassurance. Teary brown eyes, then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.


	4. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack. Lots of tears await.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y'all. The final chapter.  
> Trigger warnings: discussion of a vampire attack, cursing, nightmares, blood, character death (Thomas).

When Angel woke up, it was to the sound of a heart monitor beeping and the white of a hospital room. Obviously, it was nowhere near heaven; more like a personal hell in their eyes. They tried sitting up--keyword being _tried_ \--wincing at the dull ache in their neck. Reaching a hand up and feeling the area, it seemed like only a bandage and no stitches. With a sigh of relief, they tried sitting up again, much slower this time and glanced over to the person sat in the chair beside the hospital bed.

A weak gasp slipped out as they looked at their best friend in full color for the first time. He was slumped over in the chair with his arms resting on the bed with his head cradled on top of them as if he’d fallen asleep waiting for Angel to wake up. Thomas was snoring like the best of them, but even so, he was beautiful. A fond smile on their lips as they took in little details; little things that made Thomas who he was. Kind, handsome, and colorful.

 _Holy shit_.

Eyes widening in delayed realization, Angel wished that they had bled to death long before Thomas had gotten to them. Colors meant that the vampire, a fictional fucking creature, had been Patton. Patton equaled vampire. Vampire equaled blood-draining, walking, talking corpses. Patton biting them the night before meant that he was in Tampa. And if he was in Tampa, there was no doubt in Angel’s mind that Roman and Logan were too.

They weren’t safe in Florida anymore. Their mind raced as they thought about how well things had been going for them down there; just as things were falling into place and they were feeling better than ever before, there came Patton to ruin it all. They would have to move. Just, run away from their stupid problems just like before. Run away and leave Picani, and Thomas, and Elliot, and their entire life in Tampa. Everything was going to shit because their fucking soulmate came to Florida (for some ungodly reason) and had nearly killed them! Whoop-de- _fucking_ -doo!

Anger flared inside their chest as they took in Thomas in all his sleepy glory, waking up with a yawn as he stretched his arms. The man opened his eyes and they gave a little wave. The grin on his face was worth more to Angel than all the vampiric soulmates in the world. The anger inside cooled off and they vowed to stay. Not for their life in Tampa, but for Thomas and the friendship they shared.

“Mornin’ Thomas. How’re you?” Their voice was raspy from sleep and they accepted the cup of water he handed them with gratitude, gulping it down. They half-listened to his recounting of the previous night, wincing at his description of finding them there alone in the alley, far too focused on the information they’d learned about one of their soulmates after they left them back in Illinois. Lady Luck was really smiling down on them lately; smiling and throwing curveballs that nobody would ever hope to avoid.

The doctor walked into the room halfway through Thomas’s rant about a Judge Judy episode he’d watched on the tiny hospital television whilst waiting for them to wake up. Apparently, the wound was more superficial than anything—Angel had their doubts about that but held their opinion as the wound was attended to and redressed—and they were warned to be more careful out at night before being released.

The drive back to Angel’s apartment was silent, Thomas not even humming along to his disc of Broadway’s Best, just stealing little glances in their direction the entire drive. Once the car was parked, they went to get out of the car but were stopped with a hand on their shoulder. “When I found you, I thought it was too late. I-” They turned to look at him, heart aching at the tears in those pretty brown eyes. “Angel, when you passed out in that ambulance, I thought you were gone. I watched you close your eyes and I thought I was too late. I thought I had lost one of my best friends because I’d been too slow in getting to you.” Their heart broke and they pulled him into a brief, tight hug.

“Thomas, I’m here. I’m alive. I’ll be okay” they reassured. “I think you should come up and stay for a while.”  The _neither of us should be alone right now_ was unspoken but very much understood.

So, he did.

 

* * *

 

  

The two spent the day inside Angel’s apartment, eating a light lunch of tortilla chips—she’d have to go grocery shopping soon—and cuddled together in her bed, listening to a podcast Thomas had found to be highly recommended. The narrator’s descriptions of the weird town that he lived in were strange enough that they actively distracted her from the events of the night before. Thomas laid next to her, staring up at the ceiling with one hand laying on his stomach and the other in Angel’s grasp. Neither of them wanted to forgo physical contact at that point, needing the reassurance and comfort that it provided.

She faded in and out of consciousness for hours, only staying awake for longer than a minute when Thomas needed to change the bandage on her neck in the middle of the night. When he was done, she pulled him close and murmured a goodnight before passing back out.

The nightmares that plagued her were hard to manipulate; they all seemed like dreams until the terrors came out to play. The most vivid of them all was one involving Patton, Thomas, and herself, of course.

It started out the same as the real-life event. She went into the alley, threw the bag into the dumpster, got pushed into the wall, and that’s where it changed. Patton had nearly bitten her and then Thomas, kind, foolish Thomas, came to the rescue. It wasn’t even a fair fight in the end. Patton played around with him for a while, Angel stuck against the wall like she was attached with super glue, begging and screaming at Patton not to hurt him. Her pleas fell on deaf ears and she screamed bloody murder when her best friend fell to the concrete, neck ripped out and bleeding all over the ground. Then the spell was broken, and she was able to run to his side, holding him close and whispering useless encouragement of his survival until his brown eyes lost their glow.

She screamed again, feeling something holding her close as she thrashed and sobbed, a soothing voice breaking through the nightmare’s fog while a hand carded through her hair. It lasted for what seemed like hours until she was too weak to do much more than cry, exhaustion having taken hold deep inside her bones. Through the fit, the voice and hands were a comforting constant and Angel found herself relaxing into the arms that held her. Opening her puffy eyes, she was met with red fabric and the steady rise and fall of a chest; the voice became a hum with phrases added in at random moments.

“Thomas?” Angel hoped it was Thomas, if not, she was going to lose her mind right then and there. The chest beneath her head rumbled with his reply and she leaned back to see his face for confirmation. Brown eyes, fluffy hair sticking up in all directions, and a sweet but tired smile was all the confirmation Angel needed.

He looked like complete shit—she was 95% sure he hadn’t slept a wink that night—and she didn’t hesitate to make him lay down and sleep, promising to wake him up if she needed anything. Ever vigilant and decently traumatized from the events of the previous night, she stayed awake for the five hours that he slept, comforting him through each nightmare as he cried and begged, soothing him with light touches and mumbled words. He’d done the same for her, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for putting him through that pain. Thomas was far from perfect—he was human, after all—but she could see how hard he tried to be a good person. Hell, the fact that he could manage to be in the same room with her on her worst days, proved that time and again. This was the least she could do for the man that she considered her closest friend.

 

* * *

 

Something had soured the air between them, Angel could feel it. Ever since Thomas had woken up that afternoon around 1, he’d been quiet—only giving her one-word answers or grunting when she asked him questions—and by 2:30, she was nearing the end of her rope with it all. She understood that what he’d been through was traumatic--she was likely the only one that _could_ understand--but he’d been closed off from her. Honestly, she didn’t really know what to think about it anymore and was ready to throw in the towel and make him talk when he started speaking.

“I…” he began, shifting on the couch so that he was fully facing her, and she mimicked this, pulling her legs up onto the couch and focusing all her attention on the man before her. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m so, _so_ sorry that I wasn’t there. I’m sorry that I took so long to get to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t argue with you more and go out there and throw that stupid bag of trash away myself!” The true meaning hidden beneath the words upset her, but she held it inside, knowing he needed to get his feelings out into the open.

“I let you go out there and you got hurt! You nearly died because of me!” They both winced at the way Thomas’s voice boomed in the silence of her apartment, and all the fight left him at once; his shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears that spilled over. “It’s my fault that you nearly died, Angel. I’m a terrible best friend and I’d understand if you hate me now. Heck, I hate myself a little bit more now, too.”

That broke her, and she started crying too, shooing his hands away as he tried to comfort her. She didn’t deserve his comfort, he deserved hers. “Thomas, can I touch you?” she asked, hand outstretched to take his. With his nod, she grabbed it and held it reverently between both of hers, looking him in the eyes, a serious look on her face as she scolded/comforted her friend.

“Thomas I’m so damn glad you hadn’t been the one to throw the trash away. I know that you feel responsible for what happened, I get it, I really do, but we both know it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt me, okay? You, Thomas, are completely forgiven. I don’t hate you for what happened last night, nor could I ever hate you. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, okay?” She pulled him into a hug, feeling his tears through her shirt as he sobbed into her chest, rubbing his back with a gentle hand.

Gentle and as kindly as she could manage, Angel said, “You saved me, Thomas. You called that ambulance and kept the pressure on my neck until the paramedics got there.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away gently, offering a little smile. “You’re my hero, Thomas. Don’t ever forget that.”

He stared at her for a minute, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he registered what Angel had said. When it did finally click in his mind, his eyes widened and he pulled her into a hug, sobbing happy tears and blubbering unintelligible words that she didn’t even try to understand, just wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly.

There was no fanfare that night as color began fading from her vision. No warning given when the brown of Thomas’s eyes went back to dark grey, or as the lavender of apartment walls went back to light grey; a color that she’d gotten used to in the three—nearly four—years she’d lived there. Even so, she didn’t cry or mourn the loss too heavily. Losing color hadn’t been her choice at first, but it became one when she left her soulmates back on that January night. Angel had lived the past three years in a monochromatic world, still finding beauty in it despite the lack of color there. She didn’t regret her decision in the slightest; she had no reason to.

As she ate a dinner of greasy delivery pizza and peach soda with Thomas, the two of them watching vine compilations, she thought about her soulmates and thanked them. If they hadn’t fucked up, she never would’ve left them; there would have been no meeting Picani or Elliot and being practically adopted by the former, no growing more comfortable in herself or gaining more confidence in her thoughts and actions, and no befriending Thomas. She stole a glance at the now grayscale man as he repeated the ‘Ghost Credit’ vine--with terrifying accuracy, she might add--and smiled. She’d miss the brown of his eyes and hair, however, gray suited him just as well. Color had been nice, but gray was safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Yeah, this is not the end. Not even close, friends. Buckle up because at least one particular vampire will appear in the next chapter.


	5. Impromptu Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas goes to L.A. and Virgil finally gets back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has arrived.

 

Watching from his perch on Thomas’s bed as the man ran around his bedroom like a headless chicken, grabbing random articles of clothing and stuffing them into a duffel bag that sat next to the bed, Virgil whined, “Thomaaaaaas, do you  _have_ to go?”

Thomas gave him a look that was both irritated and remorseful at the same time, and the younger person hunched his shoulders at the look, muttering an apology. He felt terrible for asking his friend such a stupid question, but this was the first time that he and Thomas would be so far apart from one another, and his anxiety was striking more and more as the time until Thomas’s departure grew closer. The dorky man had been a constant in his life for a little while now, and he loved their time together where they’d just mess around and do stupid shit; it made Virgil’s life… It made  _Virgil_ feel like the other bullshit was worth it in the end; like Thomas being in his life was God’s way of apologizing for all the hell his soulmates had put him through.

Rubbing at the side of his neck, the spot where Patton bit him, Virgil watched Thomas finish packing and turn to the injured person with a grin before suggesting a Pirates of the Caribbean movie marathon. Virgil rolled his eyes at Thomas’s enthusiasm but agreed. “Just letting you know now, I’ve never seen them before,” he said, snickering when his friend gasped dramatically.

What a fucking dork.

Thomas left the next afternoon, and Virgil would be lying if he said that he didn’t cry a bit when he hugged the man goodbye. In fact, he’d spent a few hours just lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling whilst Welcome to Night Vale played in the background, both annoying and soothing him at the same time. Still, it was better than thinking about how Thomas could die on his way to the airport, or in the airport, or on the plane, or… Ugh. He wrinkled his nose at the thought and turned up the volume on the podcast, hoping it would drown out the thoughts before he lost his mind.

Twenty minutes later at 9:52 pm, Virgil slipped off into a dreamless sleep, comforted by Cecil’s smooth voice saying  _Good Night, Night Vale. Good Night._

 

* * *

 

Three days after Thomas had left for Los Angeles, Virgil was still not allowed back into work; even though he and Picani knew that wouldn’t last forever as Elliott was prone to getting sick, and Picani himself had to focus on his college classes. It didn’t matter that he had vacation days to spare, Picani likely wouldn’t have let him work even _without_ having vacation days; and it didn’t help that Emile was his boss, either. Especially considering that the man thought of the 26-year-old genderfluid person as his second child, Elliott being the first. Whilst Virgil’s own parents would’ve said something along the lines of “good riddance” to their child nearly dying, Emile nearly had a heart attack when he found out, begging Virgil to go file a police report. Sure, he  _could_ do that, but what would he even write?    _My soulmate is a vampire and he tried to drink my blood, but it’s all good because he didn’t know it was me._

Yeah, that would definitely go over well.

Rolling his eyes at the idea of saying something that would get them sent to a therapist of some sort, Virgil rolled over in bed to check the time on his phone. “Damn, only 7 in the morning?” He glanced at the window on the other side of his room. Nope, still dark outside. Mumbling to himself about shitty sleep schedules and useless hormones, the sleepy person crawled out of bed reluctantly, knowing that he was past due for a shower. Once in front of the mirror, he took in his own disheveled appearance, lifting an arm and sniffing lightly. Oof. It was most definitely time for a shower.

Virgil must’ve spent a good thirty minutes in the shower, scrubbing his skin with some special hydrating exfoliating towel Emile gifted him with for his birthday--said special towel worked like a charm and he silently thanked his father figure for it--before giving his hair a much-needed washing. When he finally got out the shower about an hour after getting in, drying off and putting on lotion to keep his skin from getting dry, a buzz sounded from his bedside table. Virgil peeked out of the bathroom, wrapping the towel around his waist before going to check the source of the buzzing.

His cell phone vibrated on the little table, a picture of himself and his sib-from-a-different-crib taking up the screen with the caller ID reading  _Elliott_. Frowning a bit, Virgil answered the phone, turning speakerphone on so that he could get dressed at the same time. “Hey, El, what’s up with my favorite sib?” The unspoken questions hung in the air, anxiety creating a pit in Virgil’s stomach as Elliott took their time with responding.

Mind racing, Virgil tried again. “El? Elliott, everything’s cool, right? You’re okay, right?”  _Please be okay. You have to be okay. Please don’t be with Mitchell right now. Please tell me you aren’t with Mitchell. I just want you safe. I just need you safe. Please be okay. Answer. Why aren’t you answering? Answer. Answer me. Answer-_

A soft, ragged cough from the other side cut through the thoughts and Virgil winced at how terrible Elliott’s voice sounded when they finally spoke. “Angel? Is there any way you can cover for me today? ‘Cani put me down for the full shift but I feel like shit.”

“You sound like shit, Elliott,” he called to his phone from inside the closet, searching for his favorite pair of jeans, grinning triumphantly when he found them.

“Thanks, sibby.”

“You’re so welcome. I’ll cover for you because I’m pretty sure staying here for so long has killed half of my brain cells, but you owe me.” He slipped on an X-Files t-shirt, grabbing the phone and a pair of panda socks, heading to the living room as he spoke. Elliott mumbled something unintelligible in reply, choking at the end before having a coughing fit that left Virgil grimacing as he held the phone at arm’s length, irrationally fearing catching whatever his sibling had through the phone. After a minute, the coughing had died down to only one every few seconds, so Virgil took the time to reassure Elliott. “I’m taking the shift, so you go ahead and get some rest before you keel over. Don’t die.”

_Love you._

“Thanks, asshole.” Another cough punctuated the sentence. “I won’t die if you don’t.”

_Love you too._

“Just go back to sleep, Elliott. I’ll tell Picani what’s up after he’s out of classes” Elliott made a hoarse sound of agreement and the siblings exchanged a few more words before Virgil hung up the phone with a sigh, running a hand through his damp hair in an attempt to stay focused on the day. Getting back to work before than Picani wanted him to was a plus but the act of getting back into a routine that had been broken was far more difficult as Virgil needed to psych himself up for the possibilities that would either ruin his day or make it worth getting out of the bed.

 

* * *

 

Virgil’s day went by without a single problem. He’d taken the bus to work, chatted with customers, and sold a respectable number of books for the day. He may or may not have missed lunch, but it wasn’t the same without Thomas there. When closing time rolled around, he cleaned up the shop, sweeping the floor whilst humming a soft tune. Emptying the dustpan into the nearly full trashcan sitting in the breakroom, Virgil ignored that part of himself that said he needed to be responsible and take out the garbage but if he saw Patton again in his current lifetime, it would’ve been far too soon. Muttering under his breath, Virgil grabbed his phone and locked up the front doors, leaving the trash duty for the next day. He was  _not_ risking getting bitten again.

The whole time he walked home, Virgil stayed in the light; if a streetlamp was out, he’d cross the street just to be entirely sure he’d be in the light, twisting and turning the beads of his bracelet to try and keep the anxiety as chill as possible. It wasn’t like he was afraid or anything. Definitely not.

Once the building of his apartment complex appeared in his view, Virgil could’ve cried; his legs were sore from walking so far after Thomas had been spoiling him with car rides. Speaking of Thomas, he’d have to text his best friend to see when exactly he was returning to Florida; Virgil was missing Thomas and his presence in the apartment, it had been too quiet for the past few nights. Whilst waiting for the elevator--not broken that night, thank God for small mercies--he texted his friend.

 **To A-Dork:** t-h-o-m-a-s, its me, the ghost of friends past.

 **From A-Dork:** Aw, hey! Joan’s thing is really soon, so I can’t talk now, but after that, we can! :-)

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Virgil stepped out, exhaling a puff of air with a tired sigh, walking down the well-lit hallway to his apartment door. There were noises coming from behind it and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; then it grew quiet and he laughed a weak little chuckle, annoyed with himself for getting scared of some weird noises. Unlocking the door with only a slight tremble in his hands, Virgil stepped inside his apartment.

And nearly ran right back out.

 

* * *

 

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him and Virgil’s mind short-circuited.

“No. Fuck this,” Virgil laughed to himself, running a hand through already fluffed hair, making it even messier. There was no way in hell that those three were in his fucking apartment. His apartment! His safe space!

“You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t… I don’t...” he trailed off, feeling those eyes focused only on him. Just staring; waiting for something. Then, one of them stood.  _Roman_ , his addled mind suggested. Roman stood and, against the soft warnings of the other two, walked toward Virgil until the two were only a foot apart.

He looked the same as he had when Virgil left them. The same face with absolutely no laughter lines or wrinkles to speak of.  _Beautiful,_  he thought.  _So beautiful and oh-so-dangerous._

A hand reached up to touch him, slowly and giving Virgil ample time to move, and, oh  _god_ did he want to lean into that cool touch; to watch the gray melt away into the colors he used to love so dearly. That would be giving in, though. That would be accepting whatever it was that those assholes wanted from him. So, he backed away from the hand, trying not to feel remorse at the hurt on Roman’s face when he did so. Instead, he stepped back again, pulling out his phone and flinching when the other two shot up and made to move his direction.

A hand grabbed his wrist and the phone fell to the hardwood floor with a painful noise. The hand tightened around his wrist briefly before it disappeared, and he heard two voices berating the one who’d grabbed him. There was a pain, a burning in his lungs and it wouldn’t go away, and he tried to open his eyes to see what was going on, but his view was blocked by a body crouched in front of him. Hell, when did he even manage to get on the ground?

A smooth voice asked him something and Virgil struggled to hear what it said, looking up into their face and reading their lips. Touch? You? Okay?  _Is it okay if I touch you?_ He nodded and he felt a hand in his own, squeezing a rhythm that the anxious human was all too familiar with. Four squeezes of his hand and he inhaled for three seconds. Seven squeezes, and he held his breath for four seconds. Eight squeezes, he exhaled for three. This pattern continued until he was reaching each number and not crying as much. Throughout the whole thing, though his eyes had been closed, screwed shut as he tried to focus on breathing again.

And, as much as he wanted to avoid the reality of what was going on, he needed to confirm his fear. A deep breath, feeling the way that his chest expanded as he inhaled and the way his shoulders fell as he exhaled. Slowly, he opened his eyes to Roman not too far away, still holding his hand--a fact that Virgil wasn’t too upset about--and looking at him with a smile. It was weak, as fragile as Virgil felt, but a smile, nonetheless. Another squeeze of his hand and he knew it was all real.

They were real, and they were invading his privacy.

“We need to talk.” The words came out stronger than he felt on the inside, and three pairs of eyes looked at him with varying emotions swimming in them; green, hopeful with a hint of remorse; amber, worried and just as hopeful, if not more so; and piercing, electric blue eyes full of excitement, hurt, and hope. Virgil saw these things in their eyes and pushed away the regret at what would more than likely happen that night, but he didn’t miss them.

In the back of his mind, Virgil began wondering when he became such a liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should explain a few things, and there will be a bit of pain in it as well.


	6. No Witnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue discussion and an important voicemail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, y'all. Here's the next installment of RL that took me a few weeks to write. It's long and full of interesting information. If there are any triggers that need to be tagged or warned about, let me know. Enjoy. 
> 
> Triggers may include: mention of panic attacks, talk of death, mentions of the bite, offscreen character death

Standing with shaky legs, Virgil made his way over to the armchair nestled in the corner of his living room, kicking his shoes off and pulling his feet up to rest on the edge of the seat, watching his three soulmates closely as they made their way to the couch and sat down. It wasn’t that he was worried the three would try and kill him (they could have done it already if they wanted to) but there was still a small part of him that didn’t fully trust them or their intentions because if they really wanted to take Virgil back with them, they could do it no problem. And that thought terrified him to no end.

Once he saw that the intruders were settled on the couch, Virgil cleared his throat with the intention of starting a long overdue conversation and was cut off by Logan, “Virgil, allow us to explain the situation. I am entirely certain that your queries will be answered but you may ask any other questions you come up with once I am done speaking.”

 _Get on with it then,_ Virgil grumbled internally, somewhat upset that he was being treated like a child in his own apartment but not upset enough to piss off three vampires. He could be dumb, but he was not dumb enough to anger three supernatural creatures that could kill him in ten seconds flat. Even though his rational mind reminded him that those _creatures_ were his soulmates and wouldn’t kill him, he still didn’t want them angry. Especially since they knew where he lived.

 Seeing that Logan was waiting for a reply, he mumbled something that could be taken as an affirmative. The blue-eyed vampire stared at him for a moment after, not speaking or moving, just staring. The moment turned into a minute, then two and at that point, Virgil was more than ready to just kick the three out of his apartment, uncomfortable with that unnerving gaze watching his every movement. It felt like an intimidation tactic. One that Virgil would not let get to him, that would mean weakness, something that he was not very keen on showing his soulmates at that point in time. Not until they earned his trust back.

“To start off, I would like to give you a formal apology, Virgil.” Logan’s face went from his typical neutral expression to a muted, but no less genuine, remorseful one. Well, shit. That wasn’t what Virgil had been expecting at all, and he tried to hide the pleasant surprise he felt, schooling his expression to be curious but not _too_ curious.

“I know that I am not always the best with processing emotions or controlling my temper, and that led to you being hurt, and rightfully so. Then, Patton, Roman, and I proceeded to neglect you and your needs as our soulmate and that is something I have regretted each day since you left. I see now that you were right to leave, and I want to extend my sincerest apologies your way. If you are willing to give me,” Logan paused, looking at the other two vampires sitting beside him, and grabbed their hands in his own, intertwining their fingers, “To give _us_ another chance, I swear to you that we will do our best to avoid a similar situation in the future.”

 Tears welled up in the corners of Virgil’s eyes and he looked away from Logan’s face. The sincerity of the apology affecting the irritation he’d been feeling towards them earlier. He wanted to be upset with them; they’d broken his heart all those years ago. Not to mention they broke into his apartment somehow, even though he locked everything before he left for work that morning. Okay, that did make him a bit more upset but then he thought about the apology and the irritation washed away.

Forgiving them didn’t have to equal trusting them so soon, did it?

Sneaking a peek at their faces from behind his bangs (god, they were getting long) Virgil could see the faces of his soulmates. It caused his heart to ache in a way he’d forgotten. It seemed that his mind couldn’t ignore how much he’d really missed them, even after four years of no contact. It felt like how movies described missing something (or someone) that had been an integral part of his life; not exactly a freight train of emotion running him over, but a subtle way that softened glares that should have been harsh and soothed wounds he’d been licking on his own. He wanted them back. He _needed_ his soulmates back; not because seeing colors was so important to him (it was the least important thing in his opinion) but because he missed them.

 

* * *

 

“Virge?”

Hearing his name brought Virgil back to the present, and he looked up at the voice’s owner with a confused, “Huh?”

Patton smiled kindly, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes like it used to but a smile, nonetheless. “Welcome back to Earth, space cadet Virgil. We were getting a little worried about you. After Lo said the apology, you just kind of,” the worried vampire paused, brow furrowing as he tried to find the proper word to use, his face lighting up when it came to him, “you zoned out so we’ve been trying to get you to respond to us for at least ten minutes.”

Virgil couldn’t fight the grimace that crossed his face, annoyed that he’d been so focused on his thoughts about his soulmates that he had actively (or passively, he wasn’t sure) ignored the real versions right in front of him. “Sorry...didn’t mean for it to happen. I was just-I got lost in my head and I was thinking about things. Not things, but you three and I-I’m not calling you things, I’m just trying to-I want to forgive you, I just…” Trailing off and on the verge of tears, Virgil sniffled and put his head in his hands, going through his breathing exercise to keep from exacerbating the problem. Why, when he needed it to work most, did his brain act like a complete and utter dumbass?

Patton spoke again, closer now, his voice as calm and full of love as ever, “Oh Virgil… Honey-can I call you honey?”

When the distraught human nodded, head still in his hands, Patton continued, “Virgil, honey, I think it’s my turn to apologize.”

“‘Sokay, you don’t need to. Logan already did it,” Virgil mumbled quietly, lifting his head out of his hands to look at the vampire who sat on the floor not even a foot away from him. Sighing, Patton shook his head, offering a rueful smile.

“No, honey. I am going to apologize for more than my actions, or lack thereof back then. When you and Logan had the argument, I didn’t exactly help you out. In fact, I didn’t even comfort you! I falsely believed that what Logan said was the right thing to do, that by keeping you locked up with us at night, you’d be safe and happy. I didn’t even consider your feelings when I agreed, and I regret it every day. You had a right to argue with us over that dumb idea, and I’m sorry.” Patton looked upset, not with Virgil but with himself, his fists clenching and unclenching every few seconds as he spoke. Each word Patton spoke validated Virgil and his decision to leave, but Patton wasn’t done yet.

Walking on his knees until he was sat in front of Virgil’s feet, Patton reached up for one of Virgil’s hand, giving him time to pull away from the touch (he didn’t move an inch) before grasping both hands within his own. Patton’s eyes filled with color, going from a common grey to bright, nearly-unnatural, green. If he peered past the kneeling blond to see Roman and Logan still sitting there on the couch, he could see little accents of gold on Logan’s tie and the ugly green countertops in his kitchenette. His brow furrowed when he thought about it, remembering that when _it_ happened, he’d been able to see all colors, not just green and yellow.

As if reading his mind, Patton interjected, “I know it’s strange and I don’t really understand it either, but Lo explained that our emotions are a big factor in the colors we can make our soulmates see. Cos’ love is both based on chemicals and how we feel about a person, you know? Like what happened with you and me when we first met, you remember that right?” Virgil smiled, remembering the night clearly.

“I was really excited because Logan’s birthday was the next day and then when we brushed hands reaching for the same Crofter’s jar, you said your world was filled with color. That was because I was more emotionally charged than usual. Does that make sense?” Virgil’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ in understanding, and he nodded.

“So, when you...y’know, bit me, you were more emotionally charged?”

Patton looked away from his questioning gaze, shoulders slumping. “I was angry with myself and the others because it was nearing your birthday and I… I can’t excuse what I did. I was mourning you and then I nearly killed you in a fit of petty anger and hunger. I’m sorry you had to find out that I was a vampire in such a violent way, Vee. I hope that one day, you can begin to forgive me, but I understand if you can’t. I just wanted you to know that I regret ever hurting you and I will do anything to try and repair our relationship.”

Virgil frowned down at his blond soulmate, squeezing his hands gently to get his attention, smiling his trademark lopsided grin when Patton looked at him. “Pat,” he started, coughing a little into his shoulder to clear his throat, “You’ve done enough so far, okay? I mean, yeah it was scary as shit but you’re here now trying to apologize and make amends. That shows me that you feel bad about it, okay?”

He looked over Patton’s head and made eye contact with Roman and Logan, “Come over here you two.” When all three were seated near him, Virgil took in a deep breath and exhaled soon after, most of the tension draining from his body with the exhalation.

“Roman, Logan, Patton… I,” he huffed out a soft laugh, making eye contact with each of them, a small smile stuck on his face. “I can’t find it in myself to stay mad. I’m like, ninety-five percent sure that us being soulmates is affecting it but even then, I don’t think that I could stay mad at you three now. It’s been four years, I’ve grown up and I’m sure you guys have too. I accept your apologies and I forgive you, but things can’t go back to how they used to be.”

“I swear to you, dear Virgil, that we will be better to you. I will be a better, more princely gentleman to you,” Roman said, touching Virgil’s knee with a large but gentle hand. Before Virgil could focus on Roman’s kind amber eyes, Logan spoke.

“I second that notion, Virgil. I have been working on my temper these past few years and I aim to be a better partner to you now and in the future if you will have me.”

Virgil blinked slowly as he processed the words and looked to Patton, assuming he would have something to say as well, and rolled his eyes when the blond only smiled wide and nodded in agreement with the others’ words. Well, if Patton didn’t have anything else to say, then there was no reason to leave them in suspense.

“Okay, I believe you, but I think for now we should stick to the friendlier side of things. I don’t think that jumping right to romance after four years of radio silence would be good.” If Virgil had another reason for being hesitant about a romantic relationship, then his soulmates would know eventually. Luckily, none of them argued only threw in their suggestions for friend dates and fun things to do at night, most of which consisted of movies, going to clubs, and theater performances.

 

* * *

 

Virgil just sat back in his chair and listened with a half-smile on his face before remembering his phone. Shit.

After doing the where-the-fuck-is-my-phone dance where he proceeded to accidentally hit himself twice, Virgil managed to pull his cell from between the cushion and the side of his chair. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he froze up when he saw the time. He’d gotten back from work around 9:15 that night and it was already 2:15 in the morning. Looking up at the ceiling, he wondered who he’d pissed off to be tortured so much, then promptly looked back down at his phone screen, frowning at the multitudes of texts from Thomas and...a voicemail?

Feeling the dread settle in the pit of his stomach, Virgil opened his messages and began reading through them, feeling worse and worse with each text he read.

 **Thomas:** Virge, I tried calling but you didn’t answer

 **Thomas:** Are you doing okay?

 **Thomas:** I mean, of course you’re okay, you texted me earlier

 **Thomas:** Joan’s thing went great and we hung out a bit at their place. Just texting you to let you know I’m walking back to my hotel and I’m not dead, :^)

 **Thomas:** Back at my hotel! Just let me know when you get this.

 **Thomas:** Virgil? Oh my god, please be okay.

 **Thomas:** Virgil have you heard from Emile?

 **Thomas:** Virgil. Virgil, buddy, you need to call Elliott.

 **Thomas:** Virgil...

 **Thomas:** Nvm, just...call them when you get the chance, alright?

The dread grew stronger with each breath he took, and he could feel his hands shaking as the worst-case scenarios rushed through his mind. Opening the voicemail tab in the call app, his finger hovered over the button that would either help in confirming or denying his fear. Glancing over to where his soulmates sat, inches away, laughing and talking happily, he made a hasty decision. Handing Logan his phone after changing to the contacts tab, he said, “Put your number in and I’ll text you three later. It’s late and I could really use sleep.”

Logan did just that and handed the phone back, standing to his feet, the others following his lead and standing as well, including Virgil who swayed in an invisible breeze. Patton offered a hug and he nodded his consent, feeling bad for not talking but he just wanted them to leave so that he could know what the fuck was going on with Elliott and Picani. The hug turned into a group hug that was warm and comforting but not at all what he wanted at that moment. None of them had brown hair and hazel eyes and they didn’t hug as well as Thomas did. Still, he needed affection, so he stomached it for the eternity it lasted (more like a minute but who was really counting) before rushing them out and locking the door behind him with a sigh.

Slowly, Virgil made his way back to the armchair, grabbed his phone, shut the living room lights off, and retreated into his room. The first thing he spotted was the open window. “That actually makes sense,” he muttered, walking over and shutting it, waiting to hear the lock click before throwing himself onto his bed with an “Oof!”

Rolling over onto his back, Virgil took time to do his breathing exercise before biting the bullet and playing the voicemail. It started out crackly, clearing up not too long after as Picani began speaking. Except, he sounded weak and upset; his voice kept cracking through the first thirty seconds before he began sobbing into the receiver. Virgil’s heart stopped beating for a second and he went to turn the voicemail off so he could call Emile, but the recorded message took a turn. Emile stopped crying gradually and began whispering to Virgil. It was nothing but kind words and apologies and when the voicemail cut off abruptly, he was left with more questions than answers.

So, taking Thomas’s advice, he called Elliott, waiting with bated breath to see if they’d answer. With each ring that passed without an answer, Virgil’s anxiety grew, then thankfully, they answered, sounding worse for wear.

“Hello?” They croaked, sounding exhausted. He winced, feeling bad for waking them but he needed to know what was going on.

“Hey Ell, it’s me. Um, Thomas mentioned Picani, is-are you okay? Is Emile okay?” His voice came out panicked and worried, but Virgil _was_ panicked. There was no point in trying to pretend to have his shit together if he didn’t have the emotional stability to do it.

There was silence on Elliott’s end for a moment before they finally spoke, sounding like they were getting ready to have a mental breakdown. “Virge, I, I don’t know how I’m feeling right now, but I don’t think I should tell you until Thomas gets back, he said his flight would get in from L.A. tomorrow and you really should wait until he’s there.”

Their words sent Virgil into a spiral and before he even realized what was going on, he was full on sobbing, his breaths coming in short hiccupped gasps that he was trying and failing to regulate. His reaction sent Elliott into older sibling mode and they began to try and help him through his panic attack, leading him through the 4-7-8 exercise for what felt like hours before he was able to speak again. That time when they pleaded with him to wait, he pressed more, knowing that if he did wait, it would only hurt for longer.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” they trailed off, waiting for a response, sighing when Virgil gave the affirmative, “Just know that I love you and that Thomas loves you, okay? We love you and we’ll get through this together.”

A noise of confusion escaped his throat and Elliott half laughed-half sobbed “Vir, I don’t know what to do. Dad is…” They stopped talking and he could hear the crying from their end.

Oh no…

No.

Nonononononononono

_NO._

“Elliott,” he begged, eyes filling with tears, “Please just tell me. Please. Is Picani- Is dad dead?” He amended the question with a whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Virge. Dad’s gone. They said it was a mugging gone wrong. Go-d,” their voice broke, their pain more than evident in each word, “I love you and I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but Thomas will be there tomorrow, so just for tonight, please hold on. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you,” they said again then the line went dead.

Virgil let the phone fall from his hand and clatter to the ground, barely noticing the loud noise it made past the static in his mind. And, with nobody there to help and no witnesses to watch, Virgil fell apart in his room, all alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, don't hate me?
> 
> Anyway, I don't have an updating schedule for this, so I'll ballpark the next chapter for within April. School takes priority over fic, so if I don't update within a certain timeframe, now you know why. Either way, I appreciate any and all feedback and screaming at me about this story. Thanks for reading and have a good day!


	7. Rest for the Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral, emotional turmoil, and the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a good few days, nearly a week, to edit, so I hope you enjoy.

 

When Virgil finally woke that afternoon, he laid in bed, listening to the sounds of the city outside his window. There was no motivation to get up or to move from the comfort of his bed, and he couldn’t muster enough strength to do much more than curl up on his side and weep. It hurt to think that Emile, his boss, and dad-in-all-but-blood, was gone and would never be coming back. There was nothing he could even do. Emile had called him while his soulmates were there, and Virgil had missed the call.

That was where the self-blame and anger came in. The what-ifs and should-haves that did nothing but hurt him more. If he had just checked his phone earlier, then he would’ve been able to answer the phone call; he could’ve gotten Thomas’s messages when he first sent them. If Virgil hadn’t been so keen on talking everything out and had just kicked his soulmates out when he’d first gotten home, then he could’ve talked to Emile. He could’ve talked to Emile and called him and been there to help him. If he’d only answered the call when it came, then he could’ve saved Emile; called an ambulance or the police or someone to save his dad. If Emile had only called an ambulance instead of Virgil, then he could’ve made it. He’d still be there to tell Virge about his day, reprimand Elliott and Virgil when they said too many self-deprecating jokes and run the store with them.

He didn’t call the ambulance, though. He called Virgil. Virgil, who was so busy trying to solve problems that could have waited for a better time. Virgil, who, in his defense, was planning to call Emile that night when he got home and was then distracted. The same Virgil that was laying on his back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering just what he was going to do.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t tell Emile he loved him anymore.

Eyes widening in realization, the tears began anew.

“Fuck, I can’t- I’m never go-onna..” The sentence broke off into choked sobs that Virge muffled with a pillow pressed to his face.

A voice came from the living room, muffled but growing louder and somewhat clearer as its owner walked into Virge’s bedroom. The pillow was grabbed and moved from his face and he let it go without a fight and found himself peering up into Thomas’s face. Sitting up with minimal difficulty, he made grabby hands at Thomas, burying his face into the man’s shoulder and sobbing as Thomas held and comforted him.

* * *

 

The next few days were spent in a haze of panic as the three friends tried to plan and organize Emile’s funeral. And by 8 am that Saturday, Virgil was getting dressed to go to the funeral, wearing a Stitch ribbon in his hair as a tribute to his foster father. He hadn’t had any more contact with his soulmates since the previous weekend and wasn’t entirely sure when he’d even find the time to talk to them. (Not that he wanted to talk to them again in the first place.)

As Virge stood in front of the closet mirror, a voice piped up from the doorway. “You ready to go, Vee?”

Spying Thomas’s worried face in the reflection, he sighed and nodded, turning away from the mirror to face him. His friend looked, well, he looked good and if not for the fact that it was the day of _Emile’s_ _funeral,_ he would’ve been admiring Thomas for a longer time. As it stood, Virgil wasn’t really in the mood for anything except sleep and maybe a tiny bit of human interaction and not the kind that people typically get at a funeral. He’d even considered not going at all but the thought of never having closure, of not _seeing_ Emile one last time (even though it wasn’t under the best circumstances), made him cringe.

Emile had given him so much. This was the least Virgil could do.

Tears began filling his eyes and Thomas walked forward, arms outstretched as he pulled the enby into a tight hug. Virgil buried his face into the cardigan the man wore, taking shuddering breaths as he tried forcing the tears to stop.

“Vee, Vee no. Don’t do that, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Thomas murmured in his ear, rubbing his back in a rhythmic, soothing tempo.  

“Hurts s’ bad, Thomas.”

“I know, honey. I know.”

Thomas hugged him tighter then, swaying the two of them back and forth to a silent song as Virgil’s tears began to finally subside. When they were done, the two pulled away from one another, fixed each other’s ties and cardigans before heading out of Virge’s apartment.

The elevator ride was silent. Neither of them was sure how to start the conversation they both wanted to have with the other. Virgil kept catching Thomas looking at him when he didn’t think Virgil was looking; never making eye contact with him because Virgil was doing the exact same thing. Once they were in Thomas’ car, making the thirty-minute drive to the funeral home Emile’s service was being held at, the silence was filled with overly cheery music that both brightened Virgil’s mood and dimmed it at the same time. Thankfully, Thomas turned it down as they neared the first intersection.

“Vee,” he began, glancing over to the silent passenger with a strained smile, “I’m here if you need me, alright? Love you.”

“Love you too, Thomas,” Virgil replied.

_More than you know._

* * *

 

The service itself was a small affair; the siblings plus Thomas had done their best to find images and things that their father, and boss, held dear. Each person in attendance had been requested to wear a cardigan, the one thing that the trio never saw Picani without. Even on days where he didn’t look all that well, he wore the cardigan.

Around a year after Virgil had first interacted with Emile, the man informed him that it had become a security blanket of sorts. Without it, he was still Emile Picani, but with it, he felt like a _normal_ human being. It was a feeling that Virgil could get behind.

He used to wear a black and grey jacket that, over the years, had grown to be his protection from the outside world. The jacket had seen him through getting his bachelor’s in Creative Writing, many, many finals, and failed relationships. The damn thing had been Virgil’s everything when he had nothing to call his own, and when he left his soulmates, he left it behind on impulse. Virgil desperately wanted to start over and to do that, he needed a clean slate. Besides, he had nothing to hide. A few scars here and there, but nothing drastic.

And as the funeral director called for Elliott to give the eulogy for their dad, Virgil squeezed their hand gently, offering as much reassurance and sympathy as he could muster at that time. Thomas held Virgil’s hand, sitting on his left and sniffling every couple of seconds as he tried to avoid crying too loud during Elliott’s speech.

The small person stood behind the podium, looking out at the full room of people that had known and loved their dad before making eye contact with Virgil, who tried to smile; it turned out to be more like a grimace in the end but they accepted it and returned a grim smile of their own. Now it was time for the hardest part.

“As most of you probably know, I’m Elliott, and Emile,” they took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing with new tears shining in their eyes, “Emile was my dad. He took me in when I was barely walking and talking, and he changed my life for the better. I learned about love and compassion from my dad, something a lot of people still haven’t learned and probably never will.”

That got them a few nods, some smiles, and the weight began lifting from their shoulders piece-by-piece as they recounted stories about Emile. Elliott had no doubt been crying for a little while when they started to wrap it up.

“...Emile was my dad and even though he’s not here with us now, I know that, because there are so many of you, he’ll live on for years to come. Thank you to each person here now, the people that couldn’t make it, and the ones that passed on before, waiting to greet dad on the other side. Thank you so very much, and,” Elliott paused, taking a deep breath as their eyes landed on the open casket only feet away.

“And to my dad, thank you for existing when you did. Ohana means family; family means no one gets left behind,” Elliott locked eyes with their sibling, who finished the phrase.

“Or forgotten,” Virgil said, voice low and full of sorrow.

With that, Elliott went back to their seat, face streaked with tears and a bit of makeup. After the service, people came and went, offering a silent Elliott their genuine condolences, extending the same courtesy to Virgil after realizing that he was _the_ Virgil that Emile would talk about. The thought that the man had actually considered Virgil his child, and _told_ that to other people, caused a lump in his throat that didn’t go away no matter how hard he willed it to. Even during and after the lowering of the casket, the lump remained.

The trio stayed beside the grave as it filled with earth, each taking time to say things to the headstone once the rest of the funeral goers had left. Thomas went first, kneeling in the ground by the grave whilst the siblings stood 10 feet away. Neither spoke, just stood and held one another until Thomas came back. Then, it was Elliott’s turn; they spent the longest time at Emile’s grave. Understandable considering that Emile was their father first and foremost.

Thomas and Virgil spent their time waiting on Elliott with talking about random little things as neither wanted to talk about the reality of the situation, avoiding the topic of conversation altogether. Eventually, they would need to talk about it, but that day was somewhere in the future.

After a good thirty minutes of talking that had devolved into a comfortable silence, Elliott returned, and Virgil readied himself to go to the grave. Thomas gave him a reassuring smile that he returned with a shaky one of his own before Elliott essentially pushed the anxious person in the direction of Emile’s grave with a soft but forceful, “Go.”

So, he went and kneeled on the soft ground, staring at the headstone with no small amount of pain written on his face. Yes, the headstone was beautiful. Yes, it suited Emile. And yes, it had a sweet little inscription on the stone.

That wasn’t the problem. The headstone was not what Virgil took issue with. In fact, he quite liked every little detail about the stone itself and felt it fitting for the man that lay beneath it, however, _that_ was the problem.

Emile…

Squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears threatening to fall, Virgil slumped and sat on his legs, resting most of his weight on his thighs.

The reality of it hit him all at once and he was unable to stop the flood. The loss was hitting him harder than Virgil ever thought a loss could, grief wrapping around his body like a warm blanket but there was no comfort here. No safety nor sanctuary to be found at the grave of Emile Picani.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Virgil lifted his head and looked through his tears at the beautiful headstone before him.

**Emile G. Picani**

**Dec. 16, 1976 to Dec. 31, 2018**

_How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard._

_-Winnie the Pooh_

“Yeah, really fucking lucky,” he muttered with a humorless chuckle, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of the cardigan he wore, “Too lucky almost.”

“I miss you, dad, but Helliott and my dork are waiting for me, so I guess I make this kinda quick.” He took a deep breath, exaggerating the movement as if that would help, before speaking freely.

“This… This really hurts, Emile. I wish I could just turn my emotions off...You always wanted me to express myself and be open about my emotions, but I can’t. I- Thomas and Elliott are struggling with losing you and I don’t need to burden them with my shit,” he said with a sniffle, blinking away tears and wiping any that fell away with his cardigan sleeve.

Turning his head to glance at the two most important people in his life, Virgil smiled to himself when the two started laughing about something. It was nice to see them both able to smile genuinely amid the tragedy and it gave Virgil more peace in his decision to keep his emotions under lock-and-key. As he was turning back to the headstone to finish up his one-sided conversation, he caught Thomas’s gaze. The two held the stare long enough to smile at one another before Thomas focused back on Elliott, and Virgil focused back on Emile’s grave.

Sighing, he rubbed his neck and wished for what felt like the one-thousandth time that day, that Emile was alive and there with him. “That’s another thing, Emile. Thomas is… he’s just so kind and genuine and so-he’s so _human_. He’s not perfect, but he’s better than I’ll ever be. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is romantic or just platonic, but I can’t deny how much I need Thomas to be in my life.”

Virgil huffed, looking at the ground as he poked the soft soil with a finger. Why did feelings have to be so strange? Then again, he _could_ always just ignore whatever he felt for Thomas. The two had avoided the topic of soulmates since first becoming friends, so Virgil didn’t feel right even attempting to feel more than platonic love for Thomas, especially because he had three soulmates of his own. Three soulmates he was supposed to love.

Standing to his feet, Virgil groaned as he stretched, feeling the pops and cracks of his joints. He took one last look at the headstone, running his hand along the top before whispering, “I’ll visit you soon, dad.” He then walked back over to Elliott and Thomas, thinking about the future and what it held in store for himself and those he loved.

* * *

 

The drive from the cemetery back to Virgil’s apartment complex took significantly longer than the drive there as Thomas and Virgil took a detour to Emile’s-now Elliott’s-home, dropping the enby off with the promise of spending time together as a trio later in the week. Driving to Elliott’s was fine, they supplied quite a bit of conversation that only Thomas really engaged in; Virgil sat in the passenger seat, silent unless spoken to, too entrenched in his mind to really focus.

However, once Elliott had been dropped off, neither Thomas nor Virgil knew what to do in order to lessen the awkward silence that replaced the comfortable silence that usually filled lapses in conversations between the two. There were a few attempts on Thomas’s end that began with an “uh” or an “um” but never actually led anywhere, trailing off into that same awkward silence he’d been trying to fill. That meant it was up to Virgil to say something, so, he said the first thing on his mind.

“I feel like I’m responsible for Emile’s death.”

There was no trace of humor in his voice, and for a second, Virgil wondered if he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. It would have been far better than seeing Thomas’s face go from slightly nervous to heartbroken. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he’d said that instead of something, _anything_ else. Hell, telling Thomas about his crush would’ve been easier to deal with. (No, it would not have. He would’ve cried.)

“Virge,” Thomas started, hands gripping the steering wheel, an action that betrayed the calm façade the man tried to put on, “Nobody is responsible for Emile’s death besides the person that killed him, alright? Elliott doesn’t think it’s your fault and neither do I! Honey, Emile loved you and he’d be really sad to see you feel responsible for something out of your control.”

Scrambling for a reply that didn’t sound childish, Virgil sighed and nodded in agreement, shoulders slumping in defeat. No matter which way he looked at it, Thomas was right. It was clear to him that Thomas felt similar to how Emile likely would, and Virgil felt even worse than before he spoke. Not wanting to upset Thomas any further and ready to fall into a year-long coma, Virgil curled up as best he could in the passenger seat and stared out the window.

Some days, sitting and watching the sky is all you can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. The next chapter will cover more ground in the story, so look out for that. Feel free to comment anything relevant to the story below, I'm 99% likely to respond to you. Have a great day or night!


	8. About Upcoming Chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is imperative that I have feedback in the comments on this chapter as it will impact the upcoming chapters of this fic.

Hello to you all. Do you how do?

The question I pose now is simple: do any of you severely dislike Deceit/are you triggered by him? If you do/are, then I will make sure not to use him as a character in this story as his traits are not particularly important to the nature of this fic. On the other hand, if you like Deceit and are averse to seeing him as a sort of villainous being, please tell me. 

That is all and I hope y'all are living life to the fullest

-Connor<3

P.S -> Finals are terrible, save me.


	9. Choices Made, Actions Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument, a split, soulmate bonding (of a sort), and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me! I rewrote this entire chapter and I hope y'all like it. I took your suggestions into account and Deceit, or Didier as he is named in this, is here! It's a small role at the moment, that may or may not get more important as this goes along. Anyway, the only trigger I can think of is Deceit himself, other than that, enjoy this chapter.

Despite their best efforts to avoid it, Virgil and Thomas began growing distant. Each of them finding reasons to not spend as much time with one another as they used to. Their fun friend dates quickly became a thing of the past, as did the movie nights every few days. Thomas found any reason, however valid, to do something else, whether it be sleeping, seeing a movie with friends, or (god forbid) trying to date other people.

Not that _that_ was any of Virge’s business in the first place. His friend was a fully-grown man and could make his own decisions. Date whoever he wanted to date, kiss who he wanted to kiss, and-and…

And Virgil had _no_ right to feel like this. Thomas wasn’t, _had never been_ , his. The man was too good, and Virgil was too wrapped up in the sticky web his soulmates had weaved to make anything other than friendship feasible. Even then, Thomas would be better off without him there, so he began pulling away.

Virgil watched from behind a hollow façade of normalcy as the little world he’d built around himself, came crumbling to the ground.

And, as Thomas and Virgil grew farther and farther apart, the new co-owner of Stitched Books managed to get closer with his soulmates. Virgil wasn’t all too sure how he managed that, but it didn’t really matter when he could barely stand to look one of the most important people in his life in the eyes anymore. Hell, the slow death of their relationship hurt more than if he left one day and they never spoke again; not that Virgil was going to much of anything about it. It was safer this way.

Besides, it wasn’t all due to those three heathens showing up to his apartment uninvited. Most of his avoidance of Thomas could be attributed to the fear the four would meet and they’d hurt Thomas without remorse. There was also the matter of Virgil having certain confusing feelings for someone that he didn’t have for three others.

That was a topic of conversation that had been avoided on all fronts, except when he talked to Elliott. His sib was surprisingly good at keeping secrets and Virgil trusted them with all his heart. Virgil even trusted Thomas with secrets and important information and would have immediately told the man just what he was hiding if the secret did not pertain to him. Honestly, with the rate at which their friendship was deteriorating, Virgil wasn’t sure if it’d even be worth it to get Thomas a gift by the time the man’s birthday rolled around.

* * *

  January 23rd held no significance to Virgil, nothing soul-crushing happened to them on that day, and nothing amazing had ever happened either. To the 26-year-old, it was just another normal day working at the bookshop with Thomas.

The distant duo did their own thing. Thomas manned the register, interacting with the customers and leaving a good impression on newcomers whilst regulars offered him and the elusive Virgil their condolences. From where they sat in Emile’s office, Virge could hear the regulars but didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. They were tired of accepting condolences and tired of thanking them for caring. It just wasn’t their thing so when Thomas volunteered himself to do all the talking, Virgil gladly accepted.

They’d only been open for three and a half hours when Thomas came into the office, seating himself across from Virgil with a sigh. Without missing a beat, Virgil questioned the man, eyes focused on the paperwork on the desk, “Is there something wrong Thomas?”

A hand was placed on top of the page that Virgil was reading, and they looked up, a frown forming on their lips. The two locked eyes and they could see the annoyance plain as day on their friend’s face. That paired with no context for Thomas’s impromptu interruption of Virgil’s duties as an employer, the stress of all that had been happening, and the anxiety that constantly plagued their life, made them fear that they’d somehow messed up everything.

That Thomas finally _knew_ what was really going on.

The fear escalated when Thomas took his time to reply and soon, they found themself sitting on the floor with Thomas, a hand pressed to the man’s chest as Virgil struggled to breathe normally again.

As much as they appreciated Thomas being there to help them, Virgil wasn’t exactly pleased with their friend for not saying anything. Once they were breathing normally again, they scooted away from him, ignoring the hurt that swiftly replaced the concern on Thomas’s face. That was enough to dampen the irritation they were feeling towards the man, and Virgil debated about just letting it go. After all, they knew Thomas would never intentionally do anything to hurt them.

Taking a deep breath to calm their nerves, Virgil spoke. “Do you need something from me, Thomas?”

“I don’t have to  _need_  anything from you to come in here, Virgil. You’re my friend.”

They scoffed and rolled their eyes, looking down at a trembling hand that sported rough, bitten-off nails. Some friend he was, pushing them away without an explanation.

There was a moment of silence before the sound of sniffling reached Virgil’s ears. Head snapping up to look at Thomas, they realized they’d not only thought the words but spoke them aloud. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

It was far too late to backtrack now; the words were out in the open and their friend looked ready to cry, leave and never speak to Virgil again. Parts of their brain were screaming to apologize and reassure Thomas of his importance to them, but the other parts were preventing that from happening, saying that the man would be far better off without Virgil in his life. Luckily, the more rational side won out and Virgil reached out a hand to touch their friend before retracting it, not wanting to exasperate the situation any further.

“Thomas, wait, I-god, that wasn’t- I didn’t mean that!” They exclaimed, pleading with the man as he glared at them, eyes burning with a fire they’d never seen before.

“Then what did you mean? Some friend I am? Some friend you are, hiding back here under the guise of ‘paperwork’,” Thomas said mockingly, using finger quotes when he said paperwork, seemingly ignoring Virgil’s flinch at the motion. “I came back here to take a break with you, my  _friend_. Remember that thing that we had before you started distancing yourself from me?”

They bit their bottom lip, feeling tears welling up in their own eyes, but couldn’t understand exactly why it was happening. Opening their mouth to defend themself, then swiftly shut it at the scathing look Thomas shot them.

“I tried to give you time. Hell, you deserve time to grieve after losing Emile, but you can’t just…” he paused, clenching his fists to the point his knuckles were white, “You can’t fucking push me away like this! I love you, Virgil! I love you so damn much and I want to be there for you, but I can’t do anything if you don’t let me in.”

The last sentence was punctuated with a choked sob from Thomas and Virgil wanted nothing more than to hold him close and wipe the tears away, but they wouldn’t. No, it wasn’t that they wouldn’t; it was more like they couldn’t do anything but sit there and watched the man they loved fall apart. No matter how hard they fought against the invisible force holding them hostage, Virgil just couldn’t move. They couldn’t reach out, scoot closer, or even open their mouth to speak their mind. It was like a total paralysis caused by extreme emotional duress and they  _hated_ it.

* * *

 “Virgil?”

They looked at Thomas, guilt settling in their body as they did. The man looked worn down, years older than he really was with his slumped shoulders and downtrodden expression. And to think that they caused that.

“I think…” Thomas trailed off, not looking them in the eyes. “I’m gonna head home. You can dock my pay or whatever, I just need time to cool off and be alone. Maybe think about some things and what’s most important to me.”

He sighed and stood, helping them up before heading towards the door. Every step he took hurt their heart even more. The rift they’d made, that they wanted, was deepening and Virgil couldn’t even say anything to fix it. They just stood there, leaning fully against Emile’s desk, watching the man they loved walk away, possibly forever.

Thomas paused at the doorway, turned to look back at them, a familiar, pained smile on his face as he said, “I wish you all the best in your future, Virgil. I’m sorry if I’m not there to see it,” and then he turned back and continued out the door.

The little bell above the shop door ting’d and Virgil felt the paralysis lift ever so slowly. Then he was moving, running so fast he nearly tripped on his way out of Emile’s office and into the storefront.

Everything was as dark as it could be on a bright winter afternoon in Tampa. Thomas had seemingly closed the store before coming to talk to Virgil. Holding back a wince from just thinking about how royally they’d screwed everything up, they packed up what they needed, texted Elliott, and left.

The walk back to their apartment would do them some good. There was a lot to think about.

* * *

 The weeks that followed Thomas and Virgil’s… _Split_ , as Elliott dubbed it, were nothing short of unremarkable. Day in and day out, Virge worked at the bookstore, trying to balance the responsibility of owning a business that pretty much died with its owner, being a good sibling, and a not-shitty soulmate. The last thing wasn’t always easy with the amount of interaction required between them and the three vampires.

Roman had quickly become their reluctant favorite as the fanciful man ensured that the fatigued person was distracted when necessary and rarely allowed Patton or Logan to say anything tactless. At one point, Virgil would’ve thought that Roman would be the least tactful of them all, but that spot was held entirely by Logan with Patton coming in at a close second. That didn’t mean that their ridiculous soulmate didn’t have his moments, he just had them less and often realized his own mistakes without someone having to explain it to him.

That led to where they were, three weeks later, all of them in Virgil’s apartment on the floor watching a stand-up comedy routine. Somehow, Virge allowed themself to be roped into the craziness that resulted in every blanket and pillow or cushion they had, being used to make a decently comfortable sitting area for the four of them. They’d all bunched up together for warmth that only Virgil really needed and were doing something so domestic that the poor person was ready to throw up cotton candy or a shit ton of sprinkles. That’s how sweet it was.

Nestled Roman’s lap, they nearly screamed when someone knocked on their door. Maybe if they ignored the person they’d just go away. With Virgil’s lizard brain agreeing wholeheartedly with that idea, they relaxed even further into the warmth.

Another knock, then another, then, “Vee? Could you, I dunno, it’s really, really dumb I know but could you just come here for a sec? If you don’t wanna hear what I gotta say, you can go and I’ll just leave you alone, but it’s super important. Please.”

Grumbling to themself and then at their soulmates to go into their room, they shuffled to the door and opened it to see Thomas looking worse for wear. Opening to door wide enough to fit their body through and nothing else, Virge leaned against the doorway and quirked an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Thomas mumbled sheepishly, hands twisting and turning as if trying to get warm.

“Hi,” they replied shortly, glad to see him but also wanting nothing more than to make him come back in the daylight.

Wincing, Thomas continued. “I just wanted to see how you were. I called Elliott and they said I should talk to you, so here I am.”

 _Thanks, Elli_. Sighing softly and running a hand through somewhat knotted hair, wincing at tangles, Virgil stood up straighter. Thomas was on their turf and they controlled the situation. They could make him leave, or they could invite him in and risk his life in the process.

“I’m fine, Thomas. If you only came to say hello and ask how I’m doing, you wasted time. Yours and mine. If there’s nothing else, have a good night.” They slipped back into their apartment and nearly had the door shut, only to have it stopped by Thomas putting his foot in the way with a frantic, “Vee, wait!”

Growling low in their throat at an inaudible level, they opened the door again, stepping into the hall this time, shutting the door behind themself. Arms crossed over their chest, Virgil waited for their old friend to get himself and his shit together.

“I don’t have all night, Thomas.”

At their words, the man began speaking. “I found my soulmate that day. I um, right after I ran out of the shop I went into the café across the street to cool off and get something to eat and I just bumped into him like an idiot.” Thomas’s voice took on a dreamy tone as he recalled that fateful meeting, eyes faraway and not noticing the stiffness of his friend’s shoulders, nor the bitter downturn of their lips.

“Why are you telling me this, Sanders?” They spat his last name like a curse before taking a deep breath to try calming the sudden flare-up of hostility.

Thomas continued on like it was nothing, barely paying them any real attention. Too focused on bragging, or what felt like bragging in Virgil’s eyes. “He’s a real sweetheart when you get to know him, Virge. His name’s Didier, and he’s from France, and I-“

Virgil cut him off, irritated and hurting. “Great, good for you. Glad you got what you always wanted! A fucking dream come true! Just,” they paused, taking a shuddering breath, “did you come to rub this in my face and then cut me loose, or..?”

Thomas looked panicked, finally snapping out of his own little world long enough to see the mess before him. Virgil stood barely four feet away, hugging themself as tears rolled down their cheeks. “Virge, no! I didn’t want to hurt you, I swear! Didi is amazing and sweet and funny and my soulmate, but he has a husband!”

They stared at him; eyes misty with tears. “What?”

Chuckling as he walks towards them, the man smiles weakly. “Yeah, he’s married. His husband is a sweet guy too. They’ve been nice to me these past few weeks, helped me figure stuff out. That’s uh…that’s actually why I’m here.”

Hope bloomed in their chest and they hoped for the best. “What’d they tell you to do?”

He reached them, pulling them into a tight hug that they leaned into readily, wrapping their arms around him and squeezing just as tight. “Find the one I love and hold them tight.”

It was a faint whisper, one they barely heard, but it was more than enough for them.

Too bad Virgil didn’t realize there were eavesdroppers on the other side of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hot off the presses, y'all. Thoughts, concerns, comments, and general interaction is encouraged! Love all y'all and thanks for reading!


	10. Things Are Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas doesn't die, Virgil and their soulmates come to an understanding, opportunities are taken, and Virgil may actually get the happy end they want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola, it's me, your author friend. 
> 
> Virgil will be going by They/Them prior to the second page break, then She/Her for the rest of the chapter. Vee'san insecure bean in the chapter after the first page break for a few sentences as well, just in case y'all need to know. 
> 
> Spoiler for the worrywarts: Thomas doesn't die in this chapter.

Virgil bid Thomas goodbye not long after they broke the embrace, watching him leave with a fond smile. Waving at each other like two fools until the elevator doors closed and it began descending with the man inside, Virge took a moment to collect themself. Woosahs and deep breaths and all that good shit. It wouldn’t do for their soulmates to be too interested in their elevated heart rate whilst they thought about the man they loved. Once calm and ready for the possible shitstorm ahead, Virgil re-entered the apartment, shutting and locking the door as quietly as they could, not wanting to accidentally wake up a neighbor, only to jump practically ten feet in the air when someone cleared their throat from somewhere behind them.

They yelped and turned to glare at the offender. Logan stared back only a few feet away, unfazed and flanked by Roman and Patton on either side of him, each looking equal parts disappointed in their own way. Rolling their eyes as they closed the small distance, Virgil kept a good half a foot away from the trio whilst assuming a questioning stance. Arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and a hip cocked to the side with most of their weight placed on one leg that allowed them to lean back somewhat comfortably.

The silence stretched uncomfortably for a minute, then two, then five, and so on and so forth. The staring contest between Virge and Logan was only broken anytime either one of them had to blink but other than that, things were at a standstill reminiscent of pre-Tampa times. Being as stubborn as they both were, the grumpy human knew they’d either have to give up first or die before Logan would give in.

Smiling bitterly to themself, they held back a chuckle. It seemed death was the only option considering they’d done nothing wrong. Stiffening right after thinking that, Virgil examined their soulmates’ expressions and body language further.

Perhaps they were on trial again, just like before.

Seemingly tired of the charade, Roman spoke up first, eyes beseeching them to say something, what it was, they weren’t sure. The posh vampire looked hurt but hopeful near to a state of possible denial when he spoke and it nearly made Virge lie just to get that pitiable look off his face. “Virgil, dearest one, this will not paint us in the best of lights but we all heard something through your door and were hoping you could confirm or deny our suspicions-”

Patton took over, cutting Roman off as he stepped forward and pulled Virgil’s arms from their place to hold their hands, his eyes searching theirs while he talked. “We heard you and Thomas. I jus- _we_ need to know if you love him. We need to know how to proceed from here.”

They froze in place, horror filling their expression as they pulled their hands from Patton’s, pulling back and stepping backward, somewhat fearful of the reactions they’d receive. Their reaction must have been enough of an answer because the air in the room grew thick with various emotions. Logan nodded curtly and avoided their eyes when they tried meeting his gaze. Patton smiled sadly and turned away, nodding to himself. But, while they expected those two to react far worse than that, Roman surprised them the most.

He stood staring at them with eyes that looked to be full of...tears? Shit. They winced, wondering if they’d be better off comforting him or avoiding the possible violent reaction he’d have, but nothing prepared them for what he did.

It happened in a matter of seconds, maybe less, but one moment they were standing and staring at him, the next they were flat on their back, staring at the ceiling. Voices filled their mind, as did a pain emanating from the back of their head but they could feel arms around their waist, holding them tightly. Virgil lifted their head slightly and looked down to see Roman laying atop them, his face buried in their chest.

Oh.

It would have been a cute sight if the man didn’t weigh a shitton and wasn’t crying thanks to their actions. Raising a shaky hand, they placed it on his back comfortingly, resting their head back against the floor as Logan and Patton kneeled beside them both. Roman lifted his head and started practically begging them not to leave. The words so heartfelt and pleading that they couldn’t argue, not that they wanted to in the first place.

“Ro,” they mumbled, patting his back gently, sitting up with Patton’s help when Roman lifted his weight but kept his arms around their waist, laying in their lap like an overgrown, hemoglobin-loving housecat “wasn’t plannin’ on getting rid of you. Just worried you’d hurt him. Was gonna tell you guys when I thought it was safe enough.”

They blinked, the pain fading into a dull ache as they leaned against Patton while Roman held onto them. They then focused their attention on Logan who sat off to the side, looking more than a little lost.

“Logan, c’mere. We said we were gonna try again as friends and I still mean that. Kay?” They spoke quietly, smiling a little to reassure the bespectacled vampire. Slowly, Logan crept over to their other side, leaning against them little by little until he was pressed fully against them.

A soft calm filled the room for a minute before Logan broke the silence, hesitant and unlike himself. “I understand that your new lover’s name is Thomas, but how did this even happen?”

Patton must’ve shot him a warning look because he swiftly backtracked, saying, “I meant, what about Thomas drew you to him? How did you fall in love with him?”

With a silly smile shot at Logan for asking the golden question, Virgil launched into a half conspiracy theory-like rant, half affectionate gushing about Thomas. The trio listened attentively as they started from the beginning when they first met Thomas, then when they fell for him, the little Christmas party they all had at Emile’s, when they _realized_ they loved him, the argument, and then what had happened outside the apartment; Virgil left out more personal details about intimate moments between themself and Thomas, the man’s personal information, and Emile’s death.

When they were finished recounting, they answered the few questions the three had, each answer punctuated with a yawn until finally, they rested their head on Patton’s shoulder and drifted off. The last thing they remembered was arms lifting them up then soft fabric encasing them in a familiar warmth before everything faded away for the night as Morpheus pulled them under.

* * *

 Virgil woke up the next morning stiff and needy for affection. Not for any particular reason, they just were. Looking into the bathroom mirror, they admired the paleness of their cheeks compared to the dark circles underneath their eyes that would never go away. They dressed quickly, picking a dress Emile had given them years prior that they’d never worn, taking the time to admire it in the mirror before slipping the She/Her bracelet on their wrist beside the They/Them one. It was that kind of day and as they took a deep breath, Virgil hoped for the best.

There was enough time to stick toast into the toaster and slip into some comfortable shoes and as Virge waited for the bread to toast, they noticed a folded note on the table. Unfolding the paper and reading the words, they couldn’t help but roll their eyes fondly at the message Logan left that looked painstakingly written by a three-headed dragon.

_Virgil,_

_We appreciate you trusting us with your truth. We also appreciate that you have agreed to stay our friend. In thanks, we have arranged for certain things for yourself and Thomas. Before you assume these things are sexual in nature, which I know you would, I will warn you of the requirements they have. One of these is a trip to anywhere in the world for the two of you for however long you desire, the second is a compromise between myself and Patton, we have paid off your hospital bills and Thomas’s student loan debts, and finally, a gift from Roman-_

Just as they were going to read about the last gift, the front door opened and Thomas rushed in, eyes bright and a large grin on his handsome face that left Virgil standing and staring at him in awe and confusion. Putting the letter back on the table, they took a step his way, noticing the way he was bouncing on his feet. Obviously, something amazing happened the night before or that morning.

“Hi to you too, Thomas,” they teased, smiling at the way he flushed and rushed the pleasantries.

“Hi, Vee, I missed you. I mean, I saw you last night but I still missed you in my arms but that’s not important right now. I have some really cool news and I’m going to explode if I don’t get asked about it!”

Snickering at how vehemently he said the words, they let him bounce for another minute, smiling when he pouted at them before finally asking. “Okay, what’s the good news?”

He closed the distance between them, reaching out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind their ear, excited grin turning into a softer but no less genuine or bright smile. His hand came to rest against their cheek, brown eyes meeting grey ones with a lot of love shining in them, enough that they felt unsure if it was all really meant for them.

“You, uh,” he paused, biting his bottom lip, “you look really great today. You always look great but, this dress is new. Or, you just haven’t worn it in a while. Either way you just…” he trailed off, looking away and then meeting their gaze again, “You look beautiful, Vee.”

Virgil placed a hand over his and leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as they sighed, content. When they opened them again, he was still looking at them, but it was softer and more lovestruck than they’d ever seen him before. In other words, it was absolutely adorable.

“I love you,” they breathed out, eyes going wide when she realized what she said.

Thomas looked shocked but recovered quickly, the 1,000 watt-smile coming back with a vengeance as he responded, “I love you too!”

Blinking in surprise, they questioned him. “What?”

“I love you too, Vee. I’ve loved you for a while now,” he replied easily, no falsehoods to be seen in his eyes.

The toaster pinged and the toast popped up, scaring the two out of their movie moment and back into the present. They made eye contact and giggled quietly, razzing each other for their reactions. Virgil then grabbed their toast and took a bite, not caring that it burned their tongue as they did so. It was gone within a minute and they left soon after, Virge locking the door behind themself and then following Thomas to the elevator, indulging their craving for physical affection by holding his hand, fingers intertwined.

* * *

The drive was smooth sailing for a while and then the two ended up caught in traffic due to a car accident that spanned three of the lanes, leaving only one truly open for usage. That left the lovebirds with time to talk, and they used it to discuss how they wished to proceed in their public and private lives, deciding unanimously to keep their relationship status private besides with their friends and family, not wanting their customers or potential customers to assume the worst. Once that was done though, they were left in relative silence to savor one another’s company.

Virgil fiddled with the strap of her seatbelt, staring down at the way the dress barely covered the top of her knees and immediately regretted wearing it. It was a curse to love dresses and then hate the way they looked on her body. Besides, she probably looked ridiculous; just some dude in a dress. Thomas may have said she was pretty, but that was probably just a lie to avoid hurting her feelings. He deserved someone pretty enough for him anyway. Someone that she could never be.

“So…” Thomas’s voice broke her out of her musing and she turned her head to look at him.

“Yeah?”

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly before relaxing their grip, “You remember when I went to L.A. to see Joan’s one-act play reading?” When she nodded, he continued, “Okay, well, I was introduced to many people and a few of them were part of the Broadway and Hollywood scene, and I got a call this morning. They’ve offered me a part in some crime show. It’s a small role but it’s on a pretty popular show and I took the job. Um, so, yeah.”

His hands tightened on the wheel again, the knuckles turning white and she understood that he was nervous. No, not nervous, afraid.

Sighing softly, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thomas, this is amazing news. I don’t understand why you think I’d be mad at you for something like this.”

“That’s the thing, Vee. They asked if I had a partner that wanted to join me on the trip and I might’ve mentioned you..?”

She gaped at him before groaning and slumping in her seat. As soon as she did, he began babbling. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to because I know you and Elliott have to run the shop, I just kinda panicked and we’d just confessed kinda and now I’ve probably messed everything up-“

“When do I have to be packed and how long will we be gone?” Her tone left no room for argument and he told her sheepishly, eyes focused intently on the road while they sat still.

It was inconvenient and dropped on her out of nowhere but there was no way she’d leave him alone in Los Angeles alone. Especially not in Hollywood when they could go together and geek out. Her lips quirked up in a smug smile, it was two and a half weeks away _and_ she had those vacation days saved up.

“Well, guess we should tell Elliott once we get to the shop, huh? Then, as revenge for volunteering me for this trip, you have to come over tonight and spend time with me.” She laughed at his happy smile when she said that and rested back against the seat to wait for the traffic to move.

* * *

 “Excuse the fuck outta me, you’re doing what now?” Elliott

“Oooh, Elliott you have no idea how hard it was to _not_ make a pun right then.” Thomas

“This is why dad didn’t fucking love you.” Elli, again.

Virgil rolled her eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, mainly at her sibling and Thomas going back and forth as they sat around eating lunch together.

As soon as they’d reached the shop and went through the doors, Elliott saw their hands and grinned like the smug little shit they were and muttered something about a Rem or something, she hadn’t really paid attention. Thomas had taken that moment to tell them that the two of them would be putting in their two weeks notice and she wanted to facepalm. It all just went downhill from there and now she was stuck babysitting and keeping them from murdering each other with their bowls of soup and suspiciously sharp spoons.

There was a point where she tuned them out and focused intently on finishing her soup, not wanting to deal with whatever the hell was going on with the two of them. After all, they were adults, they could take care of themselves just fine. She then paused, reconsidered, and went back to her soup, keeping a closer eye on them from then on.

The day came and she watched from her perch on Thomas’s bed as the man ran around his bedroom like a headless chicken, grabbing random articles of clothing and stuffing them into a duffel bag that sat next to the bed. Cheshire Cat grin on her face, she teased him in a sing-song voice, “This is why you pack the same day your partner does. Or even ask for help!”

Thomas gave her a look that was both exasperated and loving at the same time, but Virgil simply cooed at him and blew a kiss his way, the smile becoming sweeter when he mimed catching it and throwing one her way. She caught it and pressed the closed fist against her heart, opening it until her palm was flat against her chest. It was something they’d both taken to doing, cute and ridiculous but it never failed to lift their moods and make the two of them giggle like children.

He finished packing with a grin and then came and flopped on the bed next to her with an “Oof,” pulling her down to lay next to him. She cuddled close and kissed the tip of his nose before snuggling close to his chest and sighing happily. The two settled in for a nap, tired from a day of work, packing and organizing, and existing in general. Still, there was nowhere else that either of them would rather be at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is slowly draining the life out of me but I will survive. Hopefully, this will nourish you all for a while until I emerge from my cave again to throw a new chapter into the light of day.


	11. Nothing Goes Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm dead serious, y'all. This chapter is nothing but fluff between Thomas and Virgil plus an unscheduled meet-up with Didier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking some pity on ya because it's pride month and I'm not that much of a chaotic writer ;-) Anyway, there's really nothing here in the way of plot and it's a lot of me awkwardly trying to romance well, so hopefully it's decent. Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit (in a way? not a bad dude in this)
> 
> Enjoy!

Virgil stood in front of their full-length closet mirror admiring the dress they wore. It was a simple loose fitting sundress that had buttons from the waist down and fell just below their knees. There was nothing special about that particular dress except for the fact that Thomas had surprised them with it earlier that morning when he arrived at their apartment. The man had been so fidgety and vague about what was in the plain white gift box that Virgil feared the worst. When they opened it though, their heart stopped and tears welled up. Thanking him with hundreds of little kisses, they had then rushed into their room to try the gift on and had been in there for probably ten minutes just staring at their reflection in the mirror. 

They twirled, smiling at the way it swished and fanned out around them in the air, running their hands down the length of the fabric. A soft knock echoed through the room and they mumbled a soft “Come in,” smiling at Thomas when he walked in. 

“Hey Vee.” 

“Hi Thomas,” they said, turning away from the mirror to walk closer to him, wrapping their arms around his neck loosely. He returned the embrace by wrapping his arms around their waist and kissing their forehead sweetly, swaying from side to side in time with music only he could hear. 

They stayed that way for a minute or so, dancing together in the quiet room, staring into each other’s eyes as if the rest of the world no longer existed around them. Thomas cracked a grin, eyes sparkling with mischief and pulled away from their arms, holding a hand out as he winked at them. “Care to dance, hon?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow and shook their head in amusement. There was no way in hell they would embarrass themself like that. Their boyfriend pouted and pulled out his phone, fiddling around for a moment until soft music began playing. He stuck the phone back in his pocket and held out his hand again, smile renewed. 

Trying and failing to keep a straight face, Virgil accepted his hand, yelping as he pulled them close to his chest. A chuckle reached their ears and they glared at him, their expression coming out to be more like an indignant pout than actual anger. Thomas simply smiled brighter and lifted their joined hands, pecking them on the cheek when they finished spinning slowly. 

“Just relax love. I’ve got you. I just want to have as much time with you as possible before we head to L.A.” he said, voice soft and loving as they stepped and turned with the cello covers playing from his phone. 

“We can do this when we get back, too,” they responded, meeting his gaze, “we’ll have all the time in the world to dance like silly kids.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes and spun them again before pulling them into a sweet kiss. Virgil sighed and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. When they broke for air, Thomas pressed his forehead to theirs, eyes shut with a content smile on his lips. 

He looked beautiful like that, just happy to exist. Content to be there, to be with Virgil even though the two of them weren’t soulmates, and they felt both honored and undeserving of him. As if hearing their thoughts, Thomas pulled back enough to look them in the eyes, his free hand coming up to rest on their cheek. “I love you so much, Virgil. If someone told me a year ago that I would meet you and that we’d end up together, I wouldn’t have believed them. Yet, here we are and I’m so glad you love me.” 

Tears pricked their eyes as they leaned into the touch, his honest words hitting them where it mattered most. “I love you too, dork. I’m so grateful that you picked me and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being grateful.” 

He laughed, hugging them close. “I’m _your_ dork!” 

They smiled indulgently, squeezing him tight. “Yeah, you are.”

* * *

 Virgil sat in the passenger seat of Thomas’ car, hands pressed into the fabric of their sundress as they drove the half hour to Didier’s home. 

Not too long after they finished dancing, Thomas’ soulmate called, asking for the two of them to come over for lunch. The man had agreed readily, not noticing how stiff his partner was next to him until he’d hung up the phone. Though Thomas had apologized profusely for the last ten minutes, that didn’t stop the fear train from rolling into the station. 

The worst Didier could really do was not like them, express his dislike of them, and turn their boyfriend against them. Okay, maybe the last one was more irrational, but they didn’t know just how much of an influence Didier had on Thomas’ decisions and opinions. So, they sat silently in the seat, stewing in their own anxiety and the bit of anxiety emanating from Thomas as well. 

“Vee,” the man began, eyes flicking to glance over at them before returning to the road, “Didier is definitely gonna like you. Hell, you’re so cute that he might even try to steal you away from me to play dress-up. God knows he tried to get me to go shopping with him after only knowing me for a day.” A small smile stretched across his lips and they were unable to avoid smiling back, glad that Thomas had such a kind person as his soulmate. 

Leaning over the console, they rested their head against his arm, eyes slipping closed as they took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m trusting you. I’m still a little upset that you spoke for me but I won’t hold it against you forever.”

“Okay, honey.” 

* * *

 The rest of the drive was completed in peaceful silence that was only broken by the two singing or humming along to the radio. At some point during that time, the two began a game of singing along in the worst possible voices imaginable to make the other laugh. The score was tied two to two and Thomas was doing his best Donald Duck impression when they pulled up in the driveway of an attractive little tan house. 

There was a tall, slight man waiting for them at the door and came closer once they’d parked, a skip in his step as he headed their way. After giving Virgil a quick, reassuring kiss on the cheek, Thomas got out of the car and greeted the other man happily, getting quickly wrapped up in a tight hug. Virge allowed themself one last deep breath before following suit, closing the door softly to avoid drawing the two men’s attention and going to stand a few feet away from the hugging duo, hands opening and closing as they stood there awkwardly.

It wasn’t that they were trying to be awkward about everything, they just weren’t sure of what to do. Unlike meeting the parents of a significant other, soulmates had more sway if their soulmate wanted to date or marry someone they weren’t technically bonded to. Thomas obviously wouldn’t try and get between Didier and his husband as he just wasn’t that kind of person, but Didier was an unknown. A wild card, and that in itself was terrifying for Virgil. They’d pined over Thomas for months and losing him would _wreck_ them. If getting their own soulmates to accept their relationship with Thomas was a national sporting competition, then meeting Didier and having the man accept them as Thomas’ choice of partner was the _fucking Olympics_. 

“This must be the lovely Virgil.” A smooth accented voice spoke loud enough to snap them out of their own mind and they looked over to see both men looking at them with varying degrees of amusement on their faces. They blinked, noting that they were ‘the lovely Virgil’ and not simply Virgil before responding as eloquently as usual.

“Yeah, I guess that’s me. I’m pretty sure that Thomas is the lovely one, though.” A teasing lilt seeped into their tone and they couldn’t help but smirk when their boyfriend’s cheeks darkened. 

Thomas responded almost petulantly, waving them over with a smile to show that he wasn’t truly upset and they took their place at his side, relaxing against him when he pulled them to his side. “Vee, you’re gorgeous. Even Didi thinks so.” 

Didier locked eyes with them for a moment before turning away and leading the couple into the house but those seconds told Virgil all they needed to know. Didier wanted Thomas happy and accepted Virgil as the one who helped in that regard, meaning they weren’t in danger of a trial by fire or anything else of the sort. 

The lunch with Didier and his husband went far better than they expected it would and Virge found that they thoroughly enjoyed the other’s company. They even ended up taking home a few articles of clothing Didi swore he no longer fit; an obvious lie because they damn things still had the price tag on them. Whenever Virgil and Thomas made eye contact during the visit, they could feel the smugness wafting off of him and rolled their eyes, vowing silent vengeance. It was not long after they had bags of unworn clothing shoved into their hands that Thomas stood and made up some bullshit excuse about checking up on Virgil’s cat who needed constant affection or it started destroying their apartment. 

Didier didn’t seem too surprised and accepted it at face value, giving them both a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before rushing them out. His husband was less affectionate, opting instead for handshakes that lasted just a bit too long and were slightly too loose to be comfortable. Virgil wondered if Didier saw through Thomas’ lie or if the man was such a good liar that he bought it outright. After all, it was a reasonable lie and Virgil almost bought it as well except for two small, teensy-weensy discrepancies. One, they were the Virgil in question, and two, they didn’t own a damn cat. And that was the first thing they questioned their boyfriend on once they’d pulled out of Didi’s driveway, unable to hold back the questions any longer than strictly necessary. 

“When did I get a cat, Thomas? Are you telling me that there is a cat wrecking my apartment? I can’t even have pets, my dude! If there’s a cat..in my apartment...I swear to God I gonna fuckin..” They trailed off, catching the sound of laughter from the driver. Turning to face him, they caught his eye and frowned. “What’s so funny?”

He simply laughed harder, trying to keep his eyes on the road before giving up and pulling off the main road and into a parking space at a nearly empty gas station, waiting until the car was parked safely before he fell apart. Happy to see their man enjoying himself even though they didn’t fully understand what was going on, Virgil’s heart soared. Thomas laughed happily, the chuckles real and genuine and so heart-warming that they lit up his face. 

“You’re adorable but I’m not getting the joke,” they teased, poking him in the cheek and then the side, grinning when he yelped and moved away from the offending object. 

“Okay! Okay!” He gasped, holding his hands up in surrender, “I was talking about a cat, but in reality, I just meant you.”

It took a moment but when it hit, they stuck their tongue out at him and slumped back against the seat, pouting. “‘M not like a needy cat,” they muttered. 

A gentle hand caressed their cheek and Virgil leaned into it, kissing the palm of it lovingly. “You’re adorable, Vee. I love you, okay? I was just teasing but if you don’t like being compared to a kitten I’ll stop.” 

They considered it then shrugged. “No, it’s okay. I guess I can be catlike at times aaaand a bit needy when it comes to you so I guess you’re not wrong.” 

Thomas sighed and leaned over the console to wrap them in a warm embrace, resting his chin on top of their head. Virgil hugged him back, breathing in the scent of Thomas, of _home_. They stayed like that for a while until Thomas said, out of the blue, “You’re the only cat I’m not allergic to.” He then kissed their head and pulled back to sit in his seat properly, calm and satisfied with his life at that point in time. 

Virge’s only reply was a soft snort and they motioned to the cars passing by on the highway. Luckily, he got the message and they drove away from the gas station and merged back onto the highway with no problems. For the whole drive home, they held his hand, peppering it with the occasional little kiss of affection. 

Thomas made them soft but they loved the new feelings and their boyfriend too. They’d call the dumb, soft gay feelings their favorite thing in the world but holding his hand took that spot easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it here you did it! You solved my fluffy gay puzzle. Your reward is waiting for the next chapter :-D


	12. Planes, Pains, and Panics (At The Disco)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's plane day! Someone deals with troubling thoughts, the couple meets an off-putting 'person', and reassurances are offered. 
> 
> Aka, Virgil hates planes, their brain, and a 'dude' named Greg..? Gerry..? Geoffrey...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again. It's a chapter of this fic! By the love of god, if you don't read the tags, you might want to start within the next chapter or so because this story should start picking up the pace again. This chapter also features some darker sides of human minds, i.e. intrusive thoughts, and a character dealing with them, so if you don't like the sound of that, the parts have been marked with bolded **'s. Other than that, I have nothing else to say.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter because it's long and I worked hard to make it cohesive to the story.

There was a big reason that Virgil decided to take the bus when they left their soulmates for Tampa practically eons ago; taking a plane was far too overrated. From the expansive parking garages to airport security to the internal tourist-y airport gift shops that charged fifteen dollars for a keychain, everything about air travel seemed backwards. Tired? Sleep on the floor. Hungry? Have a prepackaged sandwich that looks like it’s made out of wax. Thirsty? A bottle of water costs 9 dollars and there’s a water fountain only feet away with free water but almost nobody uses them.

Everything about the airport made almost no sense to Virgil but Thomas was well-versed in traveling via plane, so they just followed his lead. The two of them checked their luggage, not really wanting to deal with putting it into or getting it out of overhead storage before or after their flight. Watching others struggle to fit their luggage into the overhead storage from their seat, Virge felt glad they hadn’t argued with their boyfriend’s decision.

******

Though they were all too happy to be done with airport security and the stress of trying to find the proper terminal and gate before the flight left, the enby still felt uneasy about being inside the plane itself, having had thoughts and nightmares about it leading up to the flight. After all, anything could happen inflight. Engines could fail, a storm could come out of absolutely nowhere and cause them to crash, someone could hijack their plane, _or_ it could be ground zero for some kind of virus. And though they tried and tried to push those thoughts out with statistics Logan offered to alleviate their flight anxiety, nothing changed. Every scenario ended with the death of everyone on board.

Virgil was the cause of everyone’s deaths in some of the worst ones and that frightened them most of all.

How fucked up were they that they even let the idea of being the reason a hundred or so people lost their lives in a plane crash? The thoughts had grown louder and more frequent than thoughts of Emile the closer the flight date grew. Their dad had been a kind man and never would have thought up something so terrible. Plus, there was no way in hell they could tell Thomas any of it. He loved them but there was no doubt in Virge’s mind that the man would leave if he learned how screwed up in the head they were. That was the mindset Virgil boarded the plane with, and it had been keeping them awake at night. The same one that had them berating and punishing themself for the thoughts.

******

To everyone around them, Virgil looked in need of a good night’s rest. Or, maybe more than three consecutive hours of sleep a night for a week.

Leaning back in the semi-comfortable airplane seat, Virgil let out a deep and tired sigh, weariness settling throughout their body as they relaxed a little. The tickets that had shown up on their coffee table were for second-class, meaning they had a little more room than those in the Economy seats. If that had been the only thing on their coffee table, Virge wouldn’t have minded too much.

 _But_ (and there would always be a but where Roman was concerned) the receipt for the hotel and an envelope containing _way_ too much money to possibly spend within a week, was on the table too. Of course, they’d called him right after finding the items and promptly rambled off what must have been over a million ‘Thank Yous’ and even more ‘I’m gonna kill yous’. That wasn’t to say that they were ungrateful for the gifts as their and Thomas’ bank accounts really appreciated it, Virge was just… Very, _very_ uncomfortable with the gifts costing so much.

Still, it was for them and Thomas so they wouldn’t complain about it too much. They were planning to buy _tons_ of fresh garlic to hang around their apartment though. Just as a little thank you to Roman and their other two soulmates.

A hand wiggled its way into theirs and Virgil smiled to themself as Thomas pressed a kiss to their palm. An attempt to soothe their frazzled soul and one they genuinely appreciated.

Turning to look at their boyfriend, the smile grew, easing the tiredness in their face as they noticed how sleepy the man beside them was. Virge hadn’t slept much but they were accustomed to not getting the recommended hours of sleep. Poor Thomas already looked ready to drop off into dreamland and they hadn’t even taken off yet. Cooing softly, they lifted the armrest between them to pull their boyfriend close. Thomas happily burrowed into their chest, falling asleep almost immediately.

Watching in awe, envy, and obvious affection, Virgil kissed his head, whispering, “You lucky bastard.”

* * *

 All too soon but not soon enough for Virgil, the plane took off and the anxious enby settled in for a long flight, still holding onto a sleeping Thomas. A flight attendant went through their spiel towards the front while another walked down the aisle to check each passenger, giving the couple a strange look but passing by without a word. Confused and uncomfortable with the attention, they tried to brush it off by thinking about the light of their life.

Thomas snored softly, the sound of it muffled mostly by Virgil’s chest and they were ninety-nine percent sure that he was drooling on their shirt, the wetness unmistakable for anything else. He had a surprisingly strong grip on them for a sleeping man but the one they had on him was likely just as strong. The man was like a teddy bear for them, comforting and warm in a situation they weren’t exactly enjoying. And yeah, Thomas would have been much better company awake rather than dead to the world but Virge was content just having him around in general.

However, without him awake and distracting them, Virgil was stuck alone with their thoughts as they returned full force. So they settled back in their seat, boyfriend still held tight as they readied themself for 8 hours of torment. Closing their eyes in hopes of expediting the process, the enby managed to fall asleep.

Their sleep was full to the brim of dreams. No, they were more along the lines of nightmares. Most were hard to remember, just flashes of the worst that the deep recesses of their mind could offer, but there were a few they recalled with a horrid clarity. Those were the ones that scared them the most and even while they were being woken up from the feeling of a hand gently shaking them, the damn things flashed in their mind. They were the snapshots from the mind of a truly fucked up person. Snapshots from _their_ mind.

Shaken and trembling, Virge pulled themself together enough to listen to what was going on around them. They’d apparently slept through the majority of the flight before Thomas woke them up to ensure they’d be ready to go as soon as the crew gave the signal. The man himself looked at them with concern plainly visible on his face, hand rubbing their shoulder in a comforting manner now that they were awake. Frightened that they’d turn into the monster that featured in their nightmares by having prolonged contact with Thomas, they flinched away from the touch.

Still trembling, they stared down at the aisle floor, wishing that they had the ability to turn invisible at will. After what the monster-what _they_ did in those nightmares to Thomas, their boyfriend, their sweet, funny, a-dork-able man, there was no way they could look Thomas in the eyes.

A soft, wounded sound reached their ears and Virgil had to fight to not look up and apologize for being an idiot. A hand slowly appeared in their field of vision and though the temptation to avoid the touch was strong, their love for Thomas and desperate need for affection and reassurance were stronger. Taking deep measured breaths, they sighed and forced their body to relax when Thomas’ hand lifted their chin until the two were eye-to-eye.

The man searched their eyes, looking for something and sighing when he couldn’t seem to find it. “Vee, honey, did you have another nightmare?”

Or maybe he did find it.

Wincing at the idea of having to explain it all, they merely nodded meekly, gratefully sinking into the hug Thomas pulled them into. For the rest of the flight, the couple talked about mundane things, occasionally moving closer into dream/nightmare territory as Thomas tried to get them to open up about it. Each time they promised that they would discuss it in the hotel, hoping that the man would either forget or let it go in the end.

Before too long, the plane landed and they both followed the stream of people out of the plane and into the main L.A. airport, grabbing their luggage and searching for the person who’d be picking them up.

* * *

 Their driver stood with a Starbucks cup in one hand and the sign with their names on it in the other. Thomas waved at the man, then gaped when he read the sign again. Wondering what the problem was, Virgil read it again, and then again. Heat rose to their cheeks and they squeezed Thomas’ hand.

Once they’d gotten to the man, he smiled at them both and extended a hand to Thomas who shook it with a smile of his own. “It’s nice to meet finally meet you, Thomas!”

The man then turned all his attention on Virgil, smile widening just enough to make them vaguely uncomfortable. “And this must be Mx. Sanders! I’m Geoffrey Yiglen. Your fiancé was very adamant that I meet you.”

Yiglen clapped his hands together like a happy child, the sign tucked under his arm and Virge shot Thomas a look. They weren’t exactly sure when the man had proposed but they sure as hell didn’t remember a ring. Their boyfriend gave them a sheepish smile in return, and they narrowed their eyes, making multiple mental reminders to ask Thomas about it later.

Just a few seconds later, their boyfriend looked at their driver more than a little confused. “Wait, I talked to you on the phone? You’re our driver _and_ the casting director of Malicious Crimes?”

Geoffrey’s smile grew and Virge wondered if his face would split if he smiled any wider. “I am your driver but I’m not the casting director. I’m actually one of the executive producers for the show. My source mentioned that I should come meet you myself and I will say, I am not disappointed in what I am seeing!”

Thomas tried to form words, but nothing came out, meaning Virgil, or Mx. Sanders as Geoffrey called them, would have to help out. Clearing their throat, they shot Thomas a smile before looking back at the man before them. “Poor Thomas is just a little surprised that you’re our driver for today. He just needs a little sleep and then he’ll be right as rain.”

They punctuated the sentence with a soft pat to their boyfriend’s bicep, shuddering at the way Geoffrey just stared at them. As if hearing their thoughts, he looked up, locking eyes with them and smiling again.

“Well, Mx. Sanders, let’s get the two of you to the hotel!” He said, turning and walking toward the exit, the couple following behind a few feet, exchanging confused looks the whole way to the hotel.

\---

Virgil felt like they were ten seconds away from either pushing Geoffrey’s ass out of the car or throwing themself out of it instead. The drive would’ve been pleasant without the man’s attempts to talk to them. Well, he mostly tried to engage Virgil in conversation, ignoring Thomas almost entirely and seeming more than a little irritated when the man spoke out of turn. After a while, Thomas gave up and remained silent, a frown forming on his face and deepening with each invasive question their driver asked.

Virge could tell that their boyfriend was trying to stay relaxed as best he could, uncomfortable as all hell, but also too polite to tell Geoffrey to shut up. Virgil had no such qualms but just as they went to say something, Thomas gripped their hand even tighter than the gentle squeezes and shot them a warning look. Annoyed with the idea of playing nice, Virge settled back against the leather seats and leaned against Thomas. 

Eventually, the car stopped in front of their hotel and Geoffrey reluctantly said goodbye and drove away after Thomas grabbed their luggage without his help, Virge grabbing what they could to help. The desk clerk was pleasant and kindly informed them of all they’d need to know for their stay, handing them their keys and pointing them toward the elevator with a kind smile. The two of them remained pretty calm and quiet in the elevator, making inside to their hotel room before Thomas broke.

It happened as they were setting stuff on the couch and floor, humming a little tune to pass the time whilst they did so. Hands grabbed their shoulders and they froze, stumbling when Thomas spun them around to face him. The man rarely got mad, but they knew he was pissed with the way his hands shook on their shoulders, the grip just a little too tight to be entirely comfortable. Concerned for him, Virge reached up and laid a hand on his cheek, smiling at him in hopes of it helping if only a bit.

Thomas sighed and took a deep breath.

“I don’t like Greg or Gerry or whatever the hell his name is! He’s too..” He said, using a hand to gesture vaguely as he tried figuring out what exactly the word was, sighing in exasperation when he couldn’t think of it.

 “He’s a bit _off_ if you know what I mean. I know that this is Los Angeles and that he’s some big exec for the show, but the way he acted towards you, how ‘friendly’ he was, it pissed me off.” Thomas used air-quotes around friendly, grimacing at the memory.

Virgil placed a hand over the one on their cheek, turning their head to press a kiss to the palm. Watching their boyfriend grumble about that man would have been semi-funny had it not affected the other so deeply. Virgil had been genuinely afraid for a second despite the fact that it was Thomas and even with the knowledge that the man would never dare to hurt them.

Using their other hand to pull him close again, they kissed his cheek. “I wasn’t too thrilled about it either, babe. Just promise me that you won’t punch him?”

His eyes fluttered closed and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I promise you that, Mx. Sanders.” He replied, tone light and teasing.

The sigh that escaped Virgil was loud enough that they were sure that people two doors down could hear the exasperation in it. “Okay, where the hell did that even come from? I know for a fact that you haven’t proposed. We haven’t even been together long enough for you to propose.” 

Thomas shrugged, smile turning mischievous as he disentangled himself from their hold, grabbed some clothes and waltzed into the bathroom, the door locking behind him with a resounding click. 

Surprised by the audacity of their mans, Virge stood stunned for a second, giving Thomas all the time he needed to make a successful escape, before running over there and knocking on the door, twisting and turning the knob to open the door to no avail. “Let me in, you fucking asshat! You can’t just run away without answering my questions!”

When they received no response beside the sound of running water and a bit of steam coming from under the door, the enby huffed, hands on their hips as they glared at the door like it had wronged them. Raising their voice to ensure Thomas would no doubt hear them over the water, they said, “There will be retribution, my dear Thomas! We’re sharing a room and a bed!”

Finally feeling somewhat vindicated and hopeful that their warning would keep their dork on his toes, Virge wandered over to the king-sized bed and flopped down, back hitting the soft, plush duvet. Sinking into the softness all too happily, they pulled a pillow out of the fancy arrangement and hugged it to their chest, curling up into a comfortable position. Eyelids growing heavier with every blink, they let them flutter one last time before they shut again, mumbling to nobody that they were only resting their eyes.

* * *

 They woke to the weight of an arm across their waist and the smell of a freshly cleaned Thomas. Snuggling closer into the man’s chest, Virgil felt the man move as he pulled back to look at Virgil in the dim evening light. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips and Thomas winked at them. “Have a good nap, babe?”

The enby rolled their eyes and snuggled their face back into Thomas’ chest with a huff. He tsked and pushed them away gently. “Virge, you and I need to talk about something, remember?”

Oh. Grumbling under their breath, they tried to remember, shrugging when they came up empty-handed. Maybe if they were as uncooperative as possible, Thomas would just let them snuggle close and fall asleep again. After all, it wasn’t _their_ fault they took a nap. If he’d just stayed instead of running away and taking a shower, they’d be more helpful, but now they were sleepy and semi-cranky.

Sighing once he realized his partner would be no help, Thomas sat up in the bed, resting his back against a mound of pillows and pulling them up to rest against him. Satisfied with the change in resting position, Virgil hummed in contentment, ear pressed to their boyfriend’s chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. There was another sigh, more fondly exasperated than the first and then a hand began carding through their hair, scratching at their scalp occasionally.

“Vee,” Thomas spoke up, clearing his throat to ensure he had their attention before continuing, “You wanted to know about the Mr. and Mx. Sanders thing and _I_ wanted to talk about your plane-mares.”

A snort escaped Virgil at the accurate, yet ridiculous phrase Thomas coined for the terrifying dreams they’d had on the plane. The thought of sharing those horrible visions with him woke them up fully, though, and their eyes snapped open, all traces of sleepiness gone within milliseconds. There was no way that they’d be able to avoid the conversation altogether without having to lie their way out which was a no-go.

“Virgil?”

Oh, great. And now they had Thomas worried.

“Yeah?” They asked, trying to keep their voice steady enough that the man would hopefully buy it and drop the subject. Even if it was only for a minute, it would be long enough to formulate a semi-decent plan.

A hand cupped their face and Virgil sheepishly looked their boyfriend in the eyes, weak smile plastered on their lips. He frowned in response; head tilted to the side in question. The smile fell, shoulders slumping as they gave up the act, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that they’d be unable to use the same tactics they used to use on their soulmates on Thomas. The man was too perceptive and in tuned to Virgil’s little quirks and mannerisms. Plus, it was just the two of them in the room alone, so that gave Thomas a biiiiit more of an advantage.

“Vee,” he said again, voice gentle and nonjudgmental. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, okay? We’re partners, remember? We communicate what’s wrong and lean on one another when things get hard. Whatever’s bothering you, I just want to help.”

Thomas spoke so kindly and looked at them with that sincere, patient smile he’d used with them since the day they’d met. It was one that never failed to melt them and convince them to spill their darkest secrets which is exactly what they did. It wasn’t even until they’d told him about one of the worst of their thoughts, one that included him dying, that Virgil even realized they’d been played.

******

“-and I had my hands around your throat and…and I- Wait, I, I shouldn’t be saying this. I didn’t even mean to start saying this and now I’ve ruined everything because I told you and I can’t even be upset because they’re my thoughts!” Their voice grew frantic, sitting up straight in the bed and moving to sit far enough away from the now-frowning Thomas who reached out only to pull his hand back as they continue their little tirade.

“The first good and healthy relationship I have, and I go and fuck it up with these thoughts. I mean, I knew I had issues but holy shit. Hah,” they barked out a humorless laugh, sucking in a shuddery breath and exhaling sharply, tangling a hand in their own hair and tugging at the strands.

******

“Vee,” Thomas said softly, trying to interrupt without being rude or annoying.

Moving along as though they hadn’t heard him, which with the frantic thoughts buzzing in their head they probably didn’t, Virgil dropped their head in their hands, words becoming unintelligible gibberish. Thomas decided that was the best time to try again, calling their name a little louder until they lifted their head to stare at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

\---

Thomas smiled kindly and opened his arms in invitation, heart breaking in two just looking at how unsure and scared his partner looked. Had been worrying to hear what exactly had made Virgil so afraid to the point where their entire demeanor changed over the course of the week before the flight? Definitely, but it was worse to see how badly they reacted to telling him. Even worse, the way they spoke about the intrusive thoughts made him fear that they were punishing themself in some way for something they had zero control over.

“Virgil, you haven’t scared me away, okay?” The way Virgil looked at him when he said that, ouch. Thomas' heart broke further at the realization that they were so genuinely afraid that he’d leave them after they opened up, Thomas felt tears well up in his own eyes.

“I promise I’m still here, honey. I heard you, I _listened_ to you, and I’m still here, so please come here and let me comfort you.” He pleaded with them, arms falling lower but still outstretched towards his partner. Virgil watched warily, eyes flitting from his face to his arms and then back up again, waiting for an unbearable minute before he started making any movements toward Thomas, and even then they were small and hesitant.

It hurt to watch but Thomas was nothing if not patient. They needed that from him now more than ever.

Before too long, the enby had tucked themself into his side and he wrapped his arms around them gently, hold loose just in case they changed their mind. “I love you,” he whispered.

It took a while before there was any response, Thomas having accepted that they weren’t exactly up for talking when Virgil replied.

“I love you too…Are you sure you still wanna be with me?”

Turning to look down at them, craning his head to see their face fully, Thomas managed a reassuring smile. “I’m positive, Virgil. Your intrusive thoughts might be a little scary to you but the fact that you’re bothered by them tells me everything I need to know. You’re still the same gorgeous, caring, and grumpy person I fell in love with!” He punctuated the sentence by tapping them on the nose with his index finger.

“Thank you,” they whispered, the last of the tension in their body seeping out after the much-needed reassurance was given.

Humming in acknowledgment of their gratitude, Thomas yawned. “I think the Mr. and Mx. Sanders thing can wait until tomorrow, yeah?”

Virgil nodded, the movement somewhat stilted by their position against his chest, but Thomas got the message. Holding onto them tightly, he scooched down in the bed until they were both flat on the bed, or in Virge’s case, half on Thomas and half on the bed. Though he couldn’t see his partner’s face, Thomas felt them smiling into his chest. And, as he nodded off, felt a smile settle on his lips too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything else needs to be tagged. Comments, questions, kudos, and concerns are welcome. Screams are also valid if that's how you get your kicks. Next chapter will be up whenever I edit it. 
> 
> Have a great week/weekend!  
> -C


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